


all things considered

by o0JayWolf0o



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gun Violence, Guns, Humans In Troll Romances, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Raiding, Swords, Troll Romance (Homestuck), Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombiestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:39:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0JayWolf0o/pseuds/o0JayWolf0o
Summary: The zombie apocalypse has struck Earth - a planet filled with not only humans, but trolls, from Alternia, and carapacians, from Derse and Prospit. A group of twelve trolls, eight humans, and four carapacians band together and fight for their lives as zombies flood each and every corner, and they must work hard to survive the hoards. Unlikely pairings spring from to and fro, and as despair shoots from every end of their valley and their last tendril of hope shrivels up to dust, they are shown a new path - one to ensure freedom and rest at last.[On Hiatus]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yeah hi! so im sorry i havent been writing much ive been working on this fic.  
> now i highly doubt ill actually finish this but i really REALLY want to so im gonna be workin pretty hard on it. ive only got the first chapter done but a ton planned. so yeah!  
> updates will come SLOW and i might take weeks or a month or two to update at times and im sorry about that.  
> with that said please check the tags for content warnings and thanks for reading lol  
> ps: thanks to my friend   
>  [ sail or acrylicDemons ](https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/acrylicDemons)  
>  for beta reading!

Dave exhaled sharply, taking a sip from the last of his bottled water before crumpling the plastic and dropping it to the dusted concrete. Blood was splattered on his face, his clothes even more so drenched, the scent of iron flooding his nostrils. He slid his katana into its sheath, wiped his shades free of red, and refilled his old Chapin branded sprayer of Windex once more. 

As he walked, he munched on a granola bar that he’d taken from the hefty duffel bag he carried, strapped over his chest. His shoulder blades carried the sprayer, fastened like a backpack. Around his waist, he carried a belt, secured tightly by the buckle, and tied to was the leather sheath he kept his katana in.

All of these were necessary for Dave to survive the zombie apocalypse for the past 3 years. However, unlike most people believed, a lot of things were different, he’d found. For example, the roads aren’t torn up left and right, towns aren’t downright abandoned, the power isn’t out, and zombies aren’t killed by a bullet to the head. Instead, they must be decapitated - a trick his cousin taught him before they were separated. Oh, and being bitten isn’t how you get infected - or scratched. You die, then you come back as a zombie the next day. Did he mention that any kind of cleaner burns the fuck out of zombies? They have wounds everywhere. Even the tiniest bit burns what little flesh they have hanging from their sad bodies off.

There are a few different kinds of zombies that he’s come in contact with. There are regular zombies, which either sprint or run depending on how stable they are. They don’t want your brains, they’re just hungry, so if you toss them a sliver of meat it’ll slow them down. There’s also bloated zombies - ones that eat so much their fat is overwhelming. They’re more armored than other zombies, but slower, and - contrary to belief - they do  _ not _ explode when shot. Another kind are spiders. Super fast, and they run on all fours. They can jump pretty high - Dave found that out the hard way. What you really want to avoid, though, are animals - especially dogs. Dogs can be infected - obviously - and are some of the harder things to kill, considering how fast and savage they happen to be. Then you have screamers. They smell you, they scream, alerting whatever zombies are near until you have a horde. This can bring along tanks - guys who worked out so much they might as well be the beasts from  _ Left 4 Dead 2 _ and then were infected.  And that’s about all that Dave’s seen. 

He treks the road, eyes scanning the landscape. He’d just left a town, eyes slightly heavy from lack of sleep due to keeping watch, and was moving on. He’d heard of a city a few miles down this road and was eager to see if he could finally team up with someone. Everyone he’d teamed up with, previously, however, had - well, not made it. What can he say? They sucked at surviving. 

Forests stretched along the sides of the road as far as the eye could see, birds cawing anxiously and exploding from the trees at the slightest noise. Distantly, as Dave strode over an incline in the earth, he heard an explosion - then screaming. He sped up his pace, reaching the top of the hill swiftly and grabbing his shitty stolen binoculars to peer out. 

What he saw wasn’t pretty. Some idiot had probably tried to hide in a gas station and the unknowing zombies had scrambled to get inside - pushing anything in their path out of the way. That would include the gas tanks. Now, the store’s front was collapsed, the roof of the gas station flipped to the side and the horde of zombies only increasing. Dave sprinted, grabbing the end of his sprayer and preparing it as he made his way to rescue whatever poor bastard was trapped inside. 

The horde recognized him rather quickly, and he got a few yards away before spraying them down. One by one, they crumpled to the ground, wailing, their white skin burning, before he pulled out his katana and began to execute them. Halfway through, a hand caught his ankle, causing him to stumble. Panic coursed through him and he sliced his katana wildly until he was free of the grip, killing the last walking-horror-show and sighing deeply. 

Dave wiped his brow free of the sweat that bead on it, holding himself by his knees before taking the short walk over to the dusty debris that clouded the entrance to the store. 

“Hey! Help me! I’m trapped,” someone, obviously male, called from inside the building. “Is anyone there?”

“Yeah!” Dave reassured, katana gripped tightly in his hand, as he scoped the outside of the building. The back of it was unharmed, though the door was locked, so he pulled a lockpick from his pocket and got to work. Skilled as he was, it was an easy feat, but upon pushing against the door it wouldn’t budge. Backing up, Dave kicked the door’s seam  _ hard _ , sending whatever was blocking the entrance skidding away. He shoved the door open. “Hey, you okay?”

The man groaned, and Dave followed his voice. One of the shelves had fallen, and he seemed to be trapped under it. “Hell no,” came his gravelly voice. He had stubble on his chin and cracked glasses on, dark brown hair styled similarly to Dave’s. He donned a brown hoodie.

“Oh, fuck,” Dave murmured, scrambling around the shelf and lifting it as much as he could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the man to crawl out from under it and breathe for a moment. “Okay. Okay,” Dave panted. “What’s your name?”

The guy sighed, relieved to be free. “Derry. You?” 

“Dave.” The aforementioned teen began rummaging through his duffel, pulling out a first aid kit and shoving it to Derry. He was bleeding around his waist, where he’d been trapped, and being probably around 20 Dave assumed he could patch himself up. “You can work on yourself and I’ll go ahead and see what they’ve got stocked,” he declared, jabbing his thumb behind himself. He began to search every aisle, grabbing cans of food and shoving them into his bag. He’s needed food - the last town he’d been in was completely raided, save for soaps and the occasional expired soda. He was surprised to see a bag of dog food, and swiped that as well. It would be useful for distracting hordes. They eat literally anything. “Do you have any like, crew members?”

“Y-yeah, they’re raiding the hospital right now. It’s down the road.”

Dave nodded slowly. “Do you have a walkie-talkie or something?”

Derry shook his head yes, pulling out the tattered remains of what might have been a phone at some point. “It was crushed by the shelf. We’ll have to go on a limb and look for them.”

“Alright. First, though,” Dave murmured, half to himself. He noticed an axe covered in glass, bold white letters scrawled across the red box surrounding it. They read  _ BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY _ , and Dave’d be damned if this wasn’t an emergency. He smashed the glass with his elbow and grabbed the axe, handing it to Derry. Lastly, Dave rooted around in his bag and tossed him a bottle of all surface cleaner.

“What’s this for?” he asked, turning the bottle in his hands.

“Well, soap burns zombies bigtime. It’s a fuckin’ lifesaver, really.” Dave creaked the door, which had shut due to its broken leverage, looking both ways before emerging from the building. His feet crunched on the dry dirt that coated the asphalt. It hadn’t rained in weeks, but across the sky, black clouds stretched as far as the eye can see. It’d be maybe two hours until the storm arrived, and Derry and he would need shelter. “Where’d you say this hospital was?” Dave asked, kicking a board from his way.

Derry limped out of the building, holding his side, his face scrunched. “‘Er, follow this road till you see Robin St. then take a right. Keep walkin' ‘till you see it.”

“Hum.” Dave began to quietly walk around, katana gripped at his side, his eyes scouring every inch of the road ahead of him. He and Derry scouted the town as they travelled, eyes quick and trained, breath quiet. No zombies popped out, suspicious gleams from the shadows only following their path. Another thing - zombies weren’t reckless. They waited until they had a chance. 

They made quickly to the hospital, feet crunching on the dried ground, the breeze ruffling the leaves that have shriveled up from lack of water. Over 30 minutes, they arrived. Derry made for the door first, shouting “Rachel! Dennis!” as soon as the door had swung open. But Dave did not follow - for he saw the danger before Derry.

“Wait, Derry-  _ stop! _ ” Dave pleaded, but it was far too late. The two figures he had called to - Rachel and Dennis - had been turned, and were now ambushing the poor guy. Dave, brisk, whipped out his sprayer and stunned both zombies, but Derry was gone. His stomach was torn open, chest swelling with blood, eyes glazed and mouth open in a silent scream. He was alive, but suffering.

Dave, grim, grabbed his katana and ended his pain, then finished off what remained of his friends. Before he left, however, he noticed their bags of medical supplies, and, only after scoping the clearing, swiped both bags and exited the building. He had finally had a partner, but alas, they had fallen. They always do. It was a rule in the apocalypse - trust no one, not even your friends - and Derry had failed to do so.

Upon his egress of the building, Dave looked around - the storm clouds were floating closer every second. As he peered over the trees, green and lush as if sucking all the moisture from the crackled ground, he noticed smoke, white, billowing over the trees and joining the clouds. White was always a signal for shelter; black a distress call. So then and there - Dave made his decision - he would hike through the woods, no matter how long the trip would take (from his view he would guess it was a 3-hour trek) and settle, finally, with whoever lived there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks to my friend sail (who doesn fuckin have ao3 wtf sail) for proofreading my shit

Karkat rolled out from his sleeping bag, grunting as his horns caught on his pillow. He lived in a shelter with other trolls, humans, and carapacians, the town he lived in guarded and defended as the younger people grow and learn to defend themselves. Karkat already knew how to reload, unjam, turn the safety on and off, and shoot a gun effectively, as well as adapting quickly to fast reflexes to decapitate zombies. School had been abolished almost everywhere around the world, but in Connor County, where he stayed, kids learned anything 8th graders would before learning everything about the big enemies - zombies.

Anyway. Karkat got up from his sleep, bags heavy under his eyes. He’d stayed up all night watching Supernatural, a new favorite show of his. He wished the zombie apocalypse never happened because now he’ll never know what’s after season 12. Stretching, he got to his feet, picking his way over the mass of empty sleeping bags to the bathroom. He was usually the last one awake because he’d stay up until everyone else was fast asleep.

Once he’d done his business, brushed his teeth, and angrily pouted at the untamable hair atop his head, he emerged from the bathroom, pulling his phone from his pocket and reading 2:03 PM. Lunch should have been served hours ago, so he trudged down the stairs, through the crowd, out the door, across the street, until he reached Garry’s Bakery.

Garry was a nice, dark-skinned human who loved baking foods (such as muffins and cupcakes) and making various different drinks (which could vary from coffee to smoothies). Early on, he’d fixed the sign from whatever previous store this had been and started selling his passion. Karkat’s fairly certain that Garry really liked him because each time he’d try to pay for shit, Garry would give half his money back to him and just wink. Each time he left the store, Garry would say something along the lines of, “See you later, Karkat!” He wouldn’t do that for most, if any, other customers on many days unless they were an operator. When Karkat would come back, his favorite kind of coffee would be steaming hot, ready by his designated window-seated table in the back.

So when he walked in, he wasn’t surprised to see Garry smile happily at him and offer some free food. Of course, Karkat took the chance, what with the fact he wouldn’t have to do chores for more money, and nodded his thanks. But he didn’t leave - today was special. Today, he was going to hang out with his friends, his only friends, two carapacians named Wizardly Vassal and Windswept Questant. WV was really into roleplaying and democracy, and WQ was just a humble girl who looked like she’d seen some shit but wouldn’t say anything to keep her friends happy. Neither of them talked much, but that’s just how carapacians are. Sometimes, they’d just use sign language - something Karkat had learned to speak to people in shock and were mute.

Anyway, the reason he didn’t leave was that he needed to make sure everyone was free. Sure, it was the apocalypse, but Karkat hadn’t seen zombies in - what, a month or two?  Everyone seemed to be busy, anyway. So he plopped his ass down in his designated seat and opened his laptop, bringing up Pesterchum - the chatting app he used - before messaging both of them.

Doing so was kind of unnecessary, because WQ was sure to come, and WV didn’t have many friends anyway, but he needed something to do. So for a while, he texted them, munched on a muffin, and sipped at his triple red eye.

The plan was that the trio would scavenger the adjacent town. Anyone 16 in years (or 7½ in sweeps) were required to raid some kind of town at least once a perigee (or once in two months). 

Time passed before the little ‘ _ Ding! _ ’ from the door announced WQ and WV’s arrival. Karkat didn’t smile - no, he hadn’t smiled or laughed since he was two - but instead pulled up an extra chair to fit the made-for-two table. He pulled his earbuds from his ears, paused his music, and crossed his arms.

“Alright. Now that we’re all here,” Karkat began, pausing to sip from the last remnants of his now-cold coffee, “we need to plan where we’re raiding. I’ve already eliminated the idea of the town by ours, I saw Jeff and his group raiding it last week, but the next town over would be an hour’s worth of walking back and forth. So, what do you think?”

WQ folded her hands neatly, mulling the idea over. “I say we walk to the next town. We could really impress the operators - and who knows how much loot is there?”

WV shrugged, nodding his agreement rather than talking.

“All right. Let’s go pack up, then,” Karkat grunted, tossing his coffee away and leaving $5 on the table. He brought his laptop with him, only to drop it off, before the trio headed to the armory.

“State your business,” a guard queried.

“We want to raid the next town over,” Karkat stated.

The guard stepped aside, opening the door, and let them pass him. The three stocked up swiftly, grabbing either a machete, sickle, or cutlass, a Windex or bleach bottle set to stream mode, water bottles, and nutrition bars. After they’d gathered everything they needed, snatching bandages at the last second and an emergency flare gun, they began to head out.

That was before the sirens.

A loud screech of the intercom forced them to stop in their tracks. “Attention, all staff, and students! This is not a drill. Head to the bunkers S-1 to S-3 immediately. All guards are to report to the front and back entrances; this is not an option but is mandatory. Thank you.” The announcer had sounded unnerved, his voice trembling with every word he spoke.

The three exchanged glances as organized chaos exploded around them. Staff members, exchanging hushed conversations on walkie-talkies, made their way to the dorm rooms, steps brisk and hurried. Store owners locked up shop with difficulty before racing to the bunkers.

Something was going on. And Karkat wanted to find out.

He hurtled behind a cargo container, sickles gripped tightly in his hands. WV and WQ had no choice to follow, though it was obvious trepidation flared in their eyes. “This way,” Karkat ordered, voice low, before he snuck up to view the front entrance.

It was madness. Bodies littered the floor, more guards than zombies, and a mass of screaming from both sides erupted.  _ “Back! Stay back!” _ someone shouted, before their words blended with the shouting of others.

“We need to get out of here,” Karkat murmured, his voice quivering with anticipation. For what, exactly, he didn’t know, but he began to trek to the secret exit dug by students over time in the back.

About halfway through, a rogue guard caught them. “Hey! What are you doing?”

Karkat froze, almost dropping his sickle in surprise. “I can’t find bunker S-1,” he lied.

The guard rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re coming with me,” she uttered, closing her eyes around his arm. “You two are coming as we-” she began, before a black hand clocked her in the noggin. She fell over, loosening her grip on Karkat’s forearm.

He lowered down, pressing two fingers to her neck, breath labored with unease. “She’s out cold. WV, you are my fucking savior - and a badass.” WV brightened at that. “Now, come on. Let’s go before we’re seen again.”

And so they resumed their hike, hiding behind various buildings until finally, they reached their destination. It seemed the exit hadn’t been used by anyone just yet. Unlucky bastards, with the number of zombies out front, it was no question they were all to try to survive, but die trying. Staying in those two bunkers, they were simply another meal for those rabid zombies to consume.

Karkat pushed back the bushes, crawling through the tunnel until he surpassed the gate that locked them out. WV and WQ were fast behind him, following his every command without question as he navigated them through unfamiliar towns.

An hour passed - maybe two - before they finally reached the town they had originally planned to go to. Dark thunderstorms rolled over the horizons, stretching farther than even WQ could see. Rain would hide them well, when it finally covered them. It’d be an hour or two before then, though.

Their clothing was riddled with dirt and grass stains, the occasional blood splatter from when they’d meet a lone zombie. 

“There’s a mall, there,” WV pointed out. Karkat blinked up, following his finger. He must’ve been tired, for he hadn’t noticed the structure before.

“Oh. Hell yes, let’s fucking go,” he mumbled, sludging through the roads. On the way there, Karkat unwrapped one of his nutrition bars and began to munch on it. He’d need it. He hadn’t gotten a full night’s rest in 3 perigees, only 2-hour snippets of rest. The bags on his eyes were now prominent as ever.

WQ pushed open the door first, machete poised, before waving them in. It was clear.

“Okay. WQ, since you’re the best fighter here, I trust you can defend yourself. You search the second floor and,” Karkat grabbed a military-grade backpack from a shelf, “get shit. WV and I will search down here. Call if you need help.”

WQ rolled her eyes slightly. “You say this every time, Karkat. Okay.” She obeyed him anyway, marching up the still-working-but-slow escalator. Karkat, meanwhile, gathered up two more backpacks, giving one to WV before he ordered they search the rooms.

Karkat began in a dressing room, though he didn’t focus as well as he would have wanted to. He kept thinking about the screams of the guards back at home - or, his previous home. He didn’t know what he’d be doing now, where he’d stay. He used to be so happy there.

And he’d left his laptop.

The thought sent a jolt through his spine. He had so many things saved on there, so many memories, and now, they were gone.

Unless...

Pausing, he rifled around in his endless pockets, pulling out a flash drive. He sighed, deeply relieved. He always kept a backup with him. His phone sat heavy in his left pocket, so he let his flash drive rest with it.

Shaking the last of those dark thoughts from his mind, he grabbed a few clothes he thinks would fit his friends and stuffs them into a pocket of the backpack. The next room is full of baby toys and stuffed animals, and as Karkat travels to the back, he finds something horrifying.

A body lays on the ground, a silver gun in their hand, blood splattered on the wall from a gunshot wound on their head. Their chest was split open, blue blood spilling out of it. It seemed to be carved into. “Oh, god, I’m gonna be sick,” Karkat grunted. “Why in the kid’s section?”

The body was obviously a few months old, judging by the crusted over blue blood that was peeling from the walls. He left the baby room altogether without grabbing anything.

Next up, he found a store dedicated to canned foods. Most seemed to have already been raided, but a few cans of corn, peas, and sliced pineapple remained. He snatched them up, not caring for the expiration date as Karkat piled them in his backpack.

_ Creeak. _ Karkat jolted, hand flashing to his sickle. “Please, don’t hurt me,” a new voice spoke. Turning around, Karkat’s eyes widened. A young human girl, clad in baggy clothing, dirt on her pale, white face, was holding a bright pink teddy bear, fear shining in her eyes. Blood came from her mouth, slowly trickling to the ground. Her mouth was surrounded by multiple colors of blood, almost as if she’d ripped open an animal using only her teeth. 

“Ahh.. uh..” Karkat put away his sickle, holding his hands out defensively. “I’m not going to hurt you.” For some reason, Karkat felt compelled to protect this child at all costs.

So... He did.

“Are you hungry?” The little girl nodded. “Okay. What’s your name?”

The girl blinked. “...I don’t know.”

Karkat hummed, brows creasing. Something seemed off about her, but he threw that thought away. He felt strange. “Alright. Let’s go look for some food.”

Karkat continued to raid, then, the little girl following him all the way. When he was finished, he met back up with WV.

“Hey, Wizard. I found this girl back in a food room. She’s clean, I think.” Karkat murmured. He felt oddly pessimistic. Of course, he’d always been that way, but now it almost seemed  _ amplified. _

“Oh. Has she eaten?” Karkat shook his head, reaching down into his backpack and taking out a can of corn. “Karkat?”

“What?” Had he missed something? Thinking about it, he was pretty tired - he should probably get some rest soon. 

“I’m Wayward Vagabond now.”

The way carapacians named themselves had always confused Karkat. Making a mental note of WV’s name change, he turned back to the girl that patiently waited by his side. “You like corn?” he asked.

“No.” 

_ Well, okay. _ “What do you want to eat, then?”

The girl hesitated, staring up at Karkat as if he was her father. “Meat.”

Karkat would have laughed if he didn’t care so much about this girl. “Well, we can’t get me-”

_ Bang! _ The girl fell backward, a bullet in her head. Nausea washed over Karkat, and he cradled his head in his hands.  _ What was that? _

“Karkat, you can’t trust girls like that,” a soothing voice came. WQ was holding a shiny new gun in her hand, blowing the invisible smoke away from it.

“I see that now, thanks, asshole,” he grumbled. “What did she do to me? And what was she?”

WQ made her way down the stairs, a packed backpack hanging from one shoulder. Sometimes Karkat could almost fall in love with her if he didn’t think of her as a sister. “She’s a little - and no, not a little from those messed up DDLG practices. Probably one of the only 50. There's not many. She’s one of the little girls that resort to eating their fathers. Basically, they control you into doing anything for them and eventually drive you to kill yourself. Then, they eat you.”

“...Oh.” Karkat looked at the corpse of the girl, now feeling nothing but disgust for her. “They never taught us about that. How did you know about it?”

WQ gazed at him with black, beady eyes. “My friend became one.”

Karkat didn’t ask further questions. Instead, he looked outside, noticing the steady rain beating on the ground. It was night time. “We should get some rest,” WV commented, mirroring Karkat’s thoughts.

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

Karkat had a hard time sleeping that night, thinking about the pleas of the guards and the little girl he’d met only hours prior.

He just wanted to go back and live normally.

That’s all he wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took longer than a month but whatever enjoy   
>  ps thanks sail for saving me from my endless use of em dashes en dashes and hyphens

Dirk grunted, shoulder blade pressed against the door. “Go! I’ll hold them off!” 

Eyes wide, Jade nodded, pulling a protesting Jake with her out the exit. “Wait- I can help!” he called.

Jake would be  _ damned _ if he let his best friend get mauled by zombies when the exit was clear. He knocked Jade from him and told her to leave. She shook her head, instead guarding their way out. 

The door burst. 

Dirk stumbled to the ground, the air pushed from his lungs. Quickly, Jake’s trembling hands wracked his tool belt, grabbing a glass bottle of perfume and carelessly throwing it at the horde. The white-skinned figures began to scream, clawing desperately at their own searing flesh while Jake pulled Dirk from the commotion. “C’mon, just leave them!” Dirk nodded, face grim.

Escorted by Jade, they evacuated the fast food restaurant, only a few scraps of food to spare. “That was a bust,” Jade whined, settling her rifle between her shoulder blades. Her bullets had been custom-made by her own calloused hands; filled to the brim with condensed carpet cleaner. Once it was in the head of the zombie, the cleaner ate its way from the inside out, slowing down the zombie. In some cases, it would kill it.

Jake sighed. “At least we all escaped alive, yeah? We can raid some other place: preferably an actual store. There’s bound to be one near in this large town–perhaps even an unscathed one!” His eyes still shone bright, even when the end times were nigh. Dirk admired that about him, how he could be so optimistic even when everyone (or everything) around him had fallen to despair.

Jade smiled. “Right!” She tried to be bright, as well, but it was clear she struggled to grasp whatever hope Jake had in him. 

Dirk lifted his backpack from the ground. Strong as he was, he carried some heavy shit that left him sore. He rubbed his bare shoulders, gleaming with sweat. “We should find some sylladex cards and a modus. Those things are useful as  _ fuck _ ,” he complained. 

The two nodded their agreement, already splitting the crumbs they’d collected among them and eating. Dirk and Jade ate first, Jake on watch, before he joined them. Barely full, they rested on an old, creaky picnic bench for a while.

“Do you ever wonder what your friends are doing?” Jake murmured, half to himself, after a while.

“What do you mean? We’re right here!” Jade exclaimed.

Jake waved her aside. “No, I mean… The friends that were separated from you. Years ago. I bloody miss them, I do have to admit. My cousins, too. Those poor bastards...”

Dirk leaned back on his shoulders, pointed shades reflecting the hot sun. Clouds were rolling overhead. A storm was brewing. “I used to. It’s probably best we focus on the now, though, so I’ve stopped wondering.”

Jake hummed in acknowledgment and nothing more. “Shouldn’t we get moving? Those clouds are getting mighty close!” he remarked, already equipping his pack.

“Good point!” Jade agreed. They set off, then, in the direction opposite of the clouds. 

When they arrived at a quaint town running south of where they’d been, they relaxed. Activity was almost gone, zombies seeming to be nonexistent, but a modern house, clean and polished, attracted them. It stood a long walk away. Around the house was an old fence, worn out and rusted, but it held. The trio made their way to it, grabbing plentiful supplies in unraided shops and rejoicing at their findings. When they were through, their old supplies had been tossed for MRE’s and soda cans replaced by energy drinks and water bottles, all in cold, working fridges. The amount of clean toilet paper was enough to have Jake almost weeping. It was a miracle. 

Nobody was here, as far as they knew, so they rested in an old hair salon, newly washed and gelled hair, the scent of shampoo filling the air.

“Y’know,” Jade commented, mouth full, “I could get used to this!” 

“Don’t,” Dirk sighed. “We need to keep moving. Staying in one place is probably the  _ worst _ thing we could do at the moment. Besides, who knows why this town is so empty? We haven’t seen a single zombie yet. Doesn’t that house a few streets down creep you guys out?”

Jake nodded in agreement. “Dirk’s right, we need to keep moving. I think we should see if any survivors are camping in that house, though.”

Jade pouted. “Fine. You guys make everything so complicated!” She propped her feet up, opening an old, water-stained magazine about something that had happened in 2015. Ah, yes, 2015, the year of the damned. It’s when everything went to shit. 

A light rain began to patter outside. It was time to move, again, and scope out the neat house they’d seen before their tracks were outlined by mud. They grabbed a few umbrellas—a  _ delicacy _ in the apocalypse—and began to travel in a brisk fashion to the house. 

After about 10 minutes, they arrived, rain now pelting down on their umbrellas and their clothing becoming soggy. The three of them jumped over a strange white line, sliding their bags under the rusted fence, sprinting through the downpour of rain to the front porch.

Panting, Jake dropped his bags on the creaky, wooden porch. “Finally! If I was in that rain any longer I may as well say I’d become a puddle myself!” Jade nodded in agreement, a grin spreading across her face. 

“God, that was something new, wasn’t it?” she commented, pausing between her words to gasp for air. They’d started sprinting the moment the rain became an onslaught of water-like bullets.

Still, it was so loud, they had to talk broader to hear each other. While Jake and Jade played around and rested, Dirk grabbed his machete and tried the front door. “It’s locked,” he announced, wiping away the water that had managed to get on his forehead.

“Well, don’t be rude!” Jake pushed him aside, raising his fist to rap on the door.

The trio waited in silence, the only sound being the rain that relentlessly pounded against the ground and tin roof. 

“I guess nobody’s home–” Jade began, only to be cut off by the front door slowly creaking open.

A boy with black, messy hair, a white shirt with a green monster on it, and square glasses stared back at them. “Oh! Survivors!” He greeted. Dirk stuck his hand out in greeting and the boy shook it, a bright, beaming smile on his face. “Come in!”

Jake, Jade, and Dirk made themselves at home, kicking their mudded shoes to sit by the owners outside the door. “Thank you, sir!” Jake nodded, smiling just as bright as the boy. They looked unsettlingly similar.

The main room was nice. Potted plants littered the floor, the room was tidy, and both paintings and drawings of people lined the walls. Posters, medals, and anything else you could think of sat displayed proudly. 

Jade squinted at the boy when she sat down in the main room, trying to make out what felt so strange. It was almost as if she knew this boy.

“Jane! Survivors!” he called, then turned to the trio. “You guys can put your stuff by by the couch. Tea, anyone? I was making it before you came.”

Jake and Jade graciously accepted his offer, Dirk simply shaking his head. “What’s your name, by the way?” Dirk asked.

“John,” the boy called. 

Jade gasped, suddenly remembering why he seemed so similar. “John! Oh my god, I thought I’d never see you again,” she cried, sitting up and rushing over to him. “I thought I lost you forever!” 

John’s mind clicked. “Jade? I thought you were dead!”

While they hugged, an older girl, the same age as Dirk and Jake, hopped down the stairs, a toothy grin decorating her face. “Hello!...” She trailed off as she saw John and Jade hugging. “John? Wait–Jake? Jade? Is that you?” She asked, slowing down on her descent. 

“I feel like I’ve just been caught in a fuckin’ family reunion,” Dirk murmured, half to himself.

“It does seem that way!” Jake joked, standing up to calmly hug Jane. “It’s been quite the time since we’ve spoken!”

Jane nodded into his shoulder. “Golly, I can’t believe you two are here! And alive, at that.”

“I can’t either,” John chuckled, releasing his grip on Jade. The tea John had been making began to whirr, squealing for their attention. “Ah, shit! One moment,” he excused, making his way to the kitchen.

Dirk made his presence known by clearing his throat. “Jane—I believe that’s your name—where are all the zombies? And people?”

Jane turned to him, eyes bright. “Oh! Well, we lined the edges of town with strongly-scented soaps and cleaners, protected from rain, and killed all of them in town. They refuse to cross the line. Also, keeping a town clean usually makes them less likely to appear.”

Dirk nodded. “That’s pretty smart, actually. Probably that white line we crossed outside your house. Why didn’t I think of that?” he muttered. “Well, I’ve still got questions. How long have you been staying here?”

Jane tapped her chin. “All our life. We help passing survivors get on their way. There’s plenty of things here we leave for them to raid, and if they decide to come here, we give them shelter for as long as they want until they eventually travel off.”

“Huh. Have you ever thought about travelling?” 

Jane shrugged. “Yeah, but we live a good life here. John and I have wanted to travel for some time now. The soil here isn’t very fertilized, so we can’t grow any crops. It’s been an ongoing matter for a while now. We both want to, but we’re also pretty comfortable here.”

“You can come with us. It’d be mighty fine,” Jake offered.

John walked in, carrying a tray of 4 mugs of fresh tea. Jade’s was iced as John remembered her liking it. “Yeah, we can totally join you. First, though–I don’t even know your name!” John remarked.

Dirk huffed in his own special form of laughter. “Dirk. I’m Dirk.”

“Well, Dirk, we can definitely travel with you when we pack up tomorrow. For now, though, you guys have just arrived! You must be tired as hell!” John sipped at his cup, crossing his legs by letting his ankle sit on his knee. “We’ve only got two guest rooms, so one of you lot will be sleeping all alone.”  
Before anyone could volunteer, Dirk did. “Jake and Jade are cousins. I’d be okay sleeping by myself,” he commented, swiftly draining his small teacup. 

“Well, then, I suppose that’s settled. Dinner should be made in about an hour or two, so, in the meantime…” John grinned. Jade squinted, then groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Dirk, have you ever seen the amazing movie known as Con Air?” 

Dirk pursed his lips, then shook his head. Jade slid further into the couch.

“Oh, come on, Jade! It’s not  _ that _ bad. Besides, I haven’t seen it in years!” John said.

Jade rolled her eyes, propping her legs on the coffee table. “What _ ever, _ ” she drawled out, failing to hide her crooked grin. John popped the movie in, rounding everyone up with more tea before popping some popcorn and settling on the couch.

Dirk had to admit, he felt John and Jane were a little suspicious. They were much too friendly for his tastes and already had agreed to travel with him the very next day. Looking around, he wasn’t so sure that it would go his way. All the belongings on the walls hinted that Jane and John weren’t so willing to move, and had only agreed to make them feel better.

Shaking the thought off, he excused himself to go help Jane make dinner. Apparently, they were having tamales, which was masa steamed inside a corn husk. Why Jane ate Mexican food he wouldn’t know, considering her skin was paler than his, but he didn’t argue. They were fun to make and smelled delicious while they waited for it to cook.

While they sat, Jane and Dirk had a conversation regarding Dirk’s earlier thoughts, sitting with milk and orange juice (respectively) in the kitchen.

“So, you want to travel with us?” Dirk asked, keeping his voice monotone. It wasn’t hard to maintain after years upon years of practice.

Jane shrugged. “Yeah. We have a lot of belongings I’d like to keep, though. We’ve lived here since we were kids, so leaving is going to be a bit hard,” she admitted. “It gets boring, though. I’ve always wanted to travel up North to New York.” Dirk had a bad feeling when she smiled at that, as if something regrettable would happen to her because they left. Albeit this, he swallowed it down, nodding.

“Maybe you should leave things, or the house, as kind of a signature. A memory. Or, you could go out guns and blazin’. Literally–light your house on fire, like I did.”

“You burned your house down?” Jane repeated.

Dirk nodded. “It was actually an apartment. When my little cousin… left… I burned it.”

If Jane wondered about his cousin, she didn’t say anything, simply pondering the idea. “I think I’ll leave it as some sort of a survivor’s resort. Maybe leave notes about the house, telling of us and teaching how to work the fucked up shower,” she smiled. Hearing her curse was something new, but in times of stress, Dirk didn’t care much.

When the tamales had finished cooking, Jane served everyone at the table and joined them watching Con Air. Dirk, again, chose to not pay attention to their quiet conversations or dull noise coming from the television. Instead, he took a gander at the photographs strung up across the wall. 

It was evident that whoever had taken them wasn’t professional; the photos were off-center, slightly blurry, and had the rims of their glasses blinding the lens. But it didn’t seem to matter, because, in each one, every person had a genuine smile on their face. Dirk didn’t grin, but instead, felt warm. These people were open-minded and, despite everything,  _ happy. _ Suddenly, he didn’t feel as bad about taking them on the ride with him.

Once he’d finished inspecting the walls and hungrily devoured the first real food he’d had in years, he made his way back to the living room where everyone was discussing sleeping arrangements. Of course, this had been talked about earlier, so once Dirk confirmed he’d be sleeping in the second guest room alone, he left the room to get sleep early.

During his slumber, he had dreams of green, electric energy coursing through him. A sword shoved through his chest but no pain erupted from the wound, the sword striking stone as if he was on a bed made of such. Finally, a man with a green, soft suit and a perfectly round, pristine, white head, almost like a cue ball, stood above him, brooding carefully before sending him away with a snap of his fingers. When he awoke, he was dazed, trying to make sense of one of the many strange dreams he often had. Every Thursday he dreamt of something like this. It was hard to pass off as a coincidence.

In the morning, when Dirk finally arose (according to his watch, around 12:00 pm) and headed downstairs, he was greeted by the sight of John, Jade, Jake, and Jane collecting bags and chatting. They were helping each other pack for the trip.

Dirk sighed, glancing around the humble home one last time.

It was time to go.


	4. Chapter 4

Terezi could never quite figure out why Tavros wouldn’t tell her who paralyzed him. Vriska simply smirked and shrugged when Terezi asked, something unsettlingly usual for her, so she assumed she didn’t know.

Terezi herself had been blinded by the one and only Vriska Serket. In return, Vriska had lost an arm. Now, she used a mechanical prosthetic, which she was thankful for. Admittedly, Terezi was glad she was blind; it was much easier to sense someone coming and she simply loved the different scents and tastes of the world. However, she did feel she had needed to get revenge on the spider bitch she refuses to acknowledge she harbors a small pale crush on.  
Nonetheless, Terezi wanted to know why Tavros was paralyzed. All she had gotten from   him was a sad, “Uhh, I–I’m not supposed to say, because, they will also, break my arms.” Terezi had begun sniffing around for a conclusion.

The only suspect was currently Vriska. Because of what Tavros had said, the person who’d pushed him off a cliff must still be close if they were able to hear that he told. Terezi _knew_ she hadn’t done it, and Vriska was the only other person around, so she was obviously the primary culprit. But why, Terezi asked, wouldn’t he tell? So she dug deeper.

Eventually, after Terezi had nagged him so often, Tavros snapped. He had risen from his wheelchair and to his shabby wooden crutches, eyes shining with unshed brown tears. “Stop asking! Just stop, please, you’ve heard enough, haven’t you? W–What do you gain from pestering me?!” he’d yelled. And from then on, Terezi had ceased her nagging and moved onto Vriska.

By this point, it was clear that Vriska had pushed him to the edge. Literally. With such remarks as, “She’d laughed when, she did it, so, I don’t doubt, that if I told you, she would be happy, uh, to do it again,” deducing the culprit was female, and “I hate her. I hate them, uh, so much, so, talking about her— _them_ —makes me angry,” she’d concluded that yes, Vriska had done such a thing.

One night, after Terezi and Tavros had returned with lizards and rabbits to eat for supper, she’d cornered Vriska. She still had one question; why would Vriska bother to hide her ‘achievement’ of paralyzing someone as passive as Tavros?

Allowing Tavros to play with the sparrow currently fluttering about his horns, Terezi sidled up to the troll, gnawing on a rabbit’s hip. Perhaps it wasn’t the most flavorful thing, but it quenched their hunger, and that’s what was important. “Vriska, why didn’t you just _tell_ me you paralyzed Tavros? I mean, with my excellent legislacerator skills, surely you knew I’d find out,” she egged on.

Vriska rolled her many pupils, tearing into a full-sized rabbit. “Of course! That’s _exactly_ why I didn’t tell you!” Something in her tone was off, though, so Terezi pressed.

“What, so I could have fun? Why, I’m flattered. But lying in the court sentences one to death, you know,” she smirked.

Vriska—now roleplaying as Spinneret Mindfang—flashed her canines. “Clever, Lawscale. I suppose I cannot hide it any longer. I simply enjoyed watching you torment the Summoner, of course! Watching those rust tears fill his eyes, and seeing him simply be fearful of me is one of the _best_ feelings in the world, wouldn’t you agree?”

Terezi almost bought it. She frowned. It _was_ a very good excuse; in fact, if Terezi hadn’t spent so long investigating, she would have drank up every word Vriska said. When Vriska had admitted that, though, it didn’t sit well with Terezi. It was very Vriska-worthy. Something she’d do, yes, but Vriska wouldn’t think that hard about her feat to do such a thing. In fact, she’d rather show off her prize than hide it to gain more from it. However, Terezi let off, finishing her rabbit before travelling into the old shed the three shared.

She slept in a pile of brightly colored blankets each night, smack dab in the middle of Vriska’s straw pile and Tavros’ cloth-filled basket. They had used all their sopor slime in the past few months, and had yet to scout a faraway town to gather more, content with staying buried deep in the woods with only their tiny shack, a small dune buggy Vriska had ‘borrowed,’ their river (apparently the Tallapoosa river), and an endless supply of steadily-growing wildlife. Since the apocalypse era, people had gone to cities to team up with survivors, forgetting about the game they could hunt in the forest.

By sunup, Terezi rose again from her nest, shaking off the strange dream she had. _Thursdays!_ she thought, sniffing the air. Vriska was still asleep, twitching in her sleep, but Tavros was missing from his basket. Based on the trail of scent he’d left, he was probably outside by the campfire.

Indeed, when Terezi strode outside, hair sticking out at about fifty different angles, Tavros was sat in his rusted wheelchair, watching the crackling, popping fire. Terezi would say he seemed sad based on his posture, but she couldn’t pick out his expression. “Hey there Mr. S’mores,” Terezi greeted, sitting down next to him on a log.

“Uh, hey, Terezi. Want some?” She was offered a carrot—Tavros was vegan because of _course_ he was—that had been roasted over the open flame. She accepted it, nodding her approval. _Cronch._

“Thanks. What’s up with you?” Terezi mumbled, talking around her food.

Tavros cringed. “You should, uh, swallow before you talk, but… The wildlife, they’ve been losing numbers, and, I don’t know why. They say, someone’s eating a lot of them, but, um, it’s not us, we only take what we need.” Tavros would have kicked a pebble if he could move his legs.

“It could be Vriska,” Terezi suggested, taking the bull horned trolls’ advice and swallowing for once. It didn’t fill her stomach much, but she was okay with that.

Tavros shook his head. “I asked them. They, um, they said it wasn’t Vriska.” Terezi hummed in acknowledgement.

“Well, I’ll be on the lookout. Y’know, this _could_ mean we have company, undead or not, and that’s _kiiind of_ an issue.”

Tavros turned to face her. “Really? I don’t want to deal with more rogues,” he murmured worriedly.

Terezi resisted the urge to pat him on the shoulder. Maybe he was pitiable, but she did _not_ have a pale crush on him. “Don’t worry. You’ve got the great Vigilant Lawscale and Spinneret Mindfang to keep a lookout on you.”

At that, he seemed to brighten up. And then, suddenly, his mood dampened once more as a blueberry scent washed over Terezi. Vriska had woken.

“I smell a certain blueberry scent in the air,” Terezi stated, finishing her carrot and throwing the leaves into the steadily–burning fire. “Well anyways, we need more firewood, so I’m gonna go grab some,” Terezi said.

“No, you’re not,” Vriska sighed. “You can barely fucking cut it. _I’ll_ get wood, and faster than you, too.” She grinned, taking off before Tavros could suggest she have a roasted carrot or two.

After a moment of silence, Tavros let out a drawn–out sigh. “Why is she like that? Um, not to be rude.”

Terezi perked up. “Oh, you mean narcissistic?” Nod. “She’s probably really insecure or something, if you think about it. You just gotta look deep enough,” she began. “Most people are actually that self-indulgent, but I think Vriska was just raised by a bad lusus, so she makes herself better to hide the fact that she actually doesn’t like herself all that much. I’ve gotta hand it to her, she really did convince me at first! I actually _hated_ her, like you—” “Hate is a strong word…” “—until I did a bit of digging. I can’t say I don’t feel bad for her.” Thinking about it, that's probably why Vriska didn’t want to admit why she broke Tavros’ legs. Maybe she did it with her mind-controlling abilities (which Terezi would never get used to no matter how often her mind was hijacked) instead of with her own hands, or something. Mystery solved, once again.

Tavros hesitated, mulling over something, before his meek voice sounded, “Do… Are you pale for her?”

Terezi snatched another carrot from his palms. “Why would I be pale for her?” Truth be told, Terezi wasn’t exactly sure _how_ she felt toward Vriska. Sometimes she felt bad for her, but other times, when she made fun of Tavros or berated him for not ‘doing something _productive!!!!!!!!_ ’, she felt less than positive toward the ceruleanblood.

He seemed frustrated. “You just, uh, went on a long rant about, how you feel bad for her.”

 _Cronch._ Terezi pushed her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “I feel bad for you, but I’m not pale for Mr. S’more–slash–chocolate latte, now am I?”

Both trolls fell silent as Vriska returned, a hefty load of chopped, dry wood in her grip. Terezi and Vriska stared at each other for a moment before Vriska sighed. “So, are you gonna help, or just stand there while I look pretty all day?”

If she could, Terezi would roll her eyes. Instead, she got up and helped throw more firewood to the pit and stack up the spare logs they’d gathered.

Later, when everyone was doing their own thing, three squirrels sidled up to Tavros, chattering nervously. “Huh?” he’d murmured, cradling one in his palms. “N-no… what?” A light drizzle began to sprinkle down, their fire hissing angrily and licking the air. “Oh, god, how many?” Tavros murmured, panic rising in his voice.

The squirrels raced off at Tavros’ ask. “Vriska! Help!” he shouted, grabbing his crutches and limping toward the shed. Terezi was standing up now, hair frizzed and confusion (and a bit of anxiety) crossing her face. It took a lot to make Tavros panic.

“What is it this time?” Vriska complained.

The ear-splitting screech of a screamer sounded through the forest, cutting off Tavros’ agitated yowl. A horde was rushing at them.


	5. Chapter 5

“These flowers aren’t growing,” Kanaya muttered. “Perhaps the soil isn’t similar enough to that of Alternia.” Rose knelt down, feeling the dirt around the tiny cyan flower. 

“I believe it just needs more water,” she commented, sprinkling some over both it and its neighboring flowers. “It may vary depending on the planet, you know.”

Kanaya strode over to the next batch of flowers, feeling the dirt and deciding they didn’t need any more water. “I guess so. Do you want to help me tend to the field?” Currently, they were both in the garden, a personal hobby of theirs to grow flowers. The field was where they grew food.

“I was just about to light another signal for stray survivors. The rain will be coming shortly, you know,” Rose commented, walking out of the domed greenhouse and into the next, a larger greenhouse than the last. “You can get Feferi to help you. You know she has been wanting to learn what it’s like to garden.”

Kanaya nodded, stepping into the shielded field. The dome around the crops helped them regulate how much water the plants were given. “Okay. Will you at least help me tend to the cluckbeasts?”

“If I have time, yes.” Rose walked off, but not before peeling off her gloves and setting the watering can down for Kanaya. “I’ll be out front.”

When Rose had told Feferi of Kanaya’s gardening and gathered Roxy to help her round up dry wood, she sat down, wiping sweat from her brow. She was glad she wasn’t wearing makeup today. She only saved it for the rarest of occasions, seeing as how it was in diminishing supply. 

Leaves, twigs, and two logs were piled in the fire. When it was lit, it smoked white, clouds billowing high above the treetops. This was a signal; many who offered shelter did it, and with the large manor Rose and Roxy lived in, it was perfect for taking in survivors. Each time they built a fire, it was to be made specifically; no debris, rubber, et cetera, as that would turn the smoke black, and leaves would be constantly added until it had been two hours of the fire burning.

However, this time, with the clouds advancing so quickly, it would only be roughly thirty minutes to an hour before the fire was put out by the downfall. Rose could see clearly that the rain would be hard and even the treetops wouldn’t be enough cover for the one survivor that would come.

Rose only made a fire when she was certain a survivor would turn up, and so far, she had not been wrong even once. So far, she housed three survivors, not including herself and her sister, Roxy Lalonde. Otherwise, three trolls, Kanaya Maryam, her girlfriend, Gamzee Makara, a junkie, and Feferi Peixes, an old descendant of the Condesce, stayed with her.

Kanaya had been the first survivor that had decided to stay with them permanently. Rose and she had grown close over the course of two years and, now, were happily living as a couple. Some survivors had the nerve to turn away their hospitality shortly after learning they were gay, some leaving at the sight of a troll alone. It was disgusting.

Shaking off her nerves, Rose thanked Roxy and asked her to leave. She needed to think. She knew a survivor was coming through in three hours, but she could not pinpoint who, so she turned around, admiring the progress she’d made on the manor instead.

A river gushed underneath it, foaming white as it rushed southward. Sometimes it flooded, so they’d replaced gravel with porous concrete, avoiding buildup of water. A bridge, expertly crafted by Kanaya’s tools, allowed passage over it, strong enough to support the several cars they’d collected. The roof held two large solar panels, covered wires powering the building. Running along the sides of the pointed roof, large gutters carried water around the back of the manor to a filtration system so when it rained, it collected fresh water. It was definitely imperfect; sometimes it got clogged, the machine broke, or too much water was collected and they had to drain some, but it got by.

Then were the chickens. They had a farm of about thirty, allowing them to make a copious amount of meals from eggs and chicken meat. Most of the crops they grew, including spices, also helped with their diversity of food. They didn’t need to worry about water, shelter, or food much at all.

Entertainment, they did, though.

Phones, computers, and board games all sufficed, but no survivor had shown up for months. That was why Rose and the others were particularly excited for the anonymous newcomer.

So she sat, now alone, fueling the campfire. She was particularly curious as to why she could not see the outsider’s face. It seemed there was a strange aura around them. Familiarity. For now, though, she shook the thought off, sprinkling dry leaves to the hungry flames of the bonfire.

Later, she threw the remaining twigs, leaves, and last log to the fire, pouring water around the rocks to stop the spread and leaving it unattended. The clouds that had gathered overhead blotted out the sun, a light sprinkling of rain convincing Rose it was time to head inside.

The new survivor would be arriving in due time, so Rose took a moment to help Kanaya with dinner. Tonight, it was fried chicken, omelets, and peas. A strange combination, but delicious nonetheless. 

At the dinner table, Gamzee thanked ‘the messiahs’ for his food and joked around, lightening Roses’ mood. She had to admit, she was a bit anxious about who the newcomer would be, but she was excited either way. The taste of chicken helped distract her. 

Suddenly, Rose rose from the table, Kanaya following suit. “Is something wrong?” the jadeblood asked.

“They are here,” Rose smiled, turning around and making way to the entrance of the manor. Heavy, unforgiving rain pummelled the ground, soaking the thin figure that sprinted across their lawn. They wore a white and red shirt, dark black pants, and, from what she could tell, had blistering white hair.

As they trampled up the steps, leaving a trail of water, Rose opened the door, the sound of rain reverberating through the main room. The survivor looked up, panting, wringing out their—his, he was male—shirt from water. “God, thanks, dude,” he spoke.

A twinge in Rose’s gut caused her to squint at the boy. He was eerily familiar. As he flipped his shaggy, long hair over, revealing a black, cracked pair of shades, Rose recognized him with a gasp. 

“Dave!” she nearly cried, wasting no time in approaching him for a hug. She felt him tense up underneath her, so she pulled away. “I apologize for being so brash. I just can’t believe it’s really... You,” she murmured, an abundance of emotions swirling through her.

“Wait, fuck–Rose? I–” Dave seemed to take a moment, looking her up and down. “I thought…” His shades couldn’t hide the growing pain on his face. “Fuck, you’re  _ okay, _ ” he practically choked, going in for another hug. Rose wanted to cry. For years, she thought she’d lost him forever. She’d not seen him in years even before the apocalypse had started. 

After a second, Kanaya cleared her throat. “I do apologize for interrupting the moment, but, I do not quite read what is going on.”

Rose released Dave from her firm grip, turning sideways to Kanaya. “This, Kanaya, is Dave. Dave, Kanaya. I’m sure I’ve talked about Dave to you?” she asked. 

“Hey,” Dave murmured, still shook from the encounter. He seemed to be lost, staring at Rose like a lost puppy. 

“Hello, Dave. I’m Rose’s ‘girlfriend,’ as she would call it.” Kanaya smiled warmly in greeting, waving him inside.

Dave seemed to jolt. “Wait, Rose, is Roxy here? I mean–is she...” Rose opened her mouth but was interrupted before she had the chance to speak. At the mention of her voice, Roxy rounded the corner from the kitchen.

She had much the similar reaction towards Dave as Rose. A gasp, then a hug, then asking if Dave was okay. “I’m f-fine,” he reassured, this time his voice trembling. “Sorry, I just. Didn’t think I would ever see you guys again.” Dave had obviously changed. Where one time he might have tried to hide all the emotion pouring through him, he didn’t seem to care now. Perhaps him aging had changed his view on things, Rose thought.

Pretty much everyone, with the exception of Gamzee, had gathered in the entrance hall. Feferi introduced herself to Dave so Dave did the same in return. Rose, dabbing her eyes with a napkin, invited Dave to eat dinner with everyone. Graciously, he accepted. “I haven’t had real food since... Well, since last time I’d seen you, Rose.” 

The last time they’d  _ seen _ each other, or met, had been over 6 years ago. When Dave had turned ten, he’d managed to convince his Bro, somehow, to let him visit Rose. When he’d arrived, he’d never wanted to leave, and wouldn’t have if Bro hadn’t dragged him back to the apartment himself.

So, as soon as he’d sat down, mouth watering from the scents, he had  _ devoured _ his food embarrassingly fast, meekly asking for seconds after practically licking his plate clean. During his meal, Dave didn’t ask who Gamzee was and why he was staring at the ceiling with a long, stupid smile on his face.

He didn’t ask anything because he was just happy he’d finally been able to see Rose again and finally had found a permanent place to stay, and with that, he’d finally have a chance to just  _ breathe. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been trying to put this out for the past 2 weeks but ive either a) forgotten b) been busy or distracted or c) wasnt motivated. theres been a lot going on as well so... sorry about that. especially for waiting so long to put out such a short chapter. the first scene isnt very important and i couldnt make the second any longer. sorry about that my dude   
>  in other words, were finally getting somewhere exciting in the plot. cant promise ill be uploading chapters much faster though. complications always occur

_ Vrrr. Vrrr. Vrrr. _ Sollux groaned, lifting his head from the three-monitored computer he sat at. His phone was vibrating insistently in his pocket, and he scrambled to pick it up.

“H- _ fuck _ -hello?” he mumbled, righting himself.

“Ah, I see you’re awake, finally.” It was his boss, Rose. She didn’t like being called that, but Sollux did it anyways just to piss her off. “There’s a new survivor arriving at the manor today. I’m here now to just remind you to do so, seeing as you had fallen asleep.” Her voice was apologetic, for waking him, yet held snide undertones. She, again, had caught him sleeping during day hours. 

“I don’t know how you manage to hack back into the fucking cameras every time,” he said to himself, interdental lisp prominent in his speech. “Okay. And?” he replied to her, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as his fingers quickly booted the computer up. He would use his psionics to lift the phone if it didn’t interfere with the sound waves.

“That would be all. Actually, have you been having headaches, lately?” she inquired.

Sollux squinted his eyes, half at the glaring light of the terminal he was staring at, and half at Rose’s question. “...yeah. How did you know about that?”

Rose hummed. “Just a wild guess. After this, you are welcome to sleep again.”  _ Click. _ She ended the call. 

Sollux exhaled, running a hand through his pounding head. Rose knew about his headaches, and, no doubt, she’d be asking what was causing them. How she knew, he would never know. He hadn’t even told the asshole that lived with him in the cellar beneath Rose’s manor. 

That was another thing. Rose never visited him, unless it was to drop off a new load of food, water, or something like new bed sheets they’d asked for. It was reasonable, of course, as she  _ was _ saving the little amount of energy they obtained from the solar panels, but it got lonely. Excluding, again, the douche that had decided it was too late to move back with Rose. Honestly, if  _ he  _ moved out, Sollux is sure his migraines would be cleared entirely.

With the computer up, a scan is done and Sollux picks up one device, a phone, and as it moves, it’s clear it’s headed toward the manor. Fucking Rose. This dude already knows where he’s going. Attempting to access the phone is futile; it’s dead. She probably knew that, too.

He huffed in annoyance, but decided to check the cameras he’d meticulously hidden and installed on a few trees surrounding the manor anyway. They usually worked, as he’d made sure they were waterproof and always had power, and now was no exception. 

Above, it was 7:52 pm, and rain was striking the ground with ferocity Sollux could only hope to muster. A stray bird, undead, waddled around, picking absently at the ground and flapping its fleshy wings. Sollux cycled to the camera that had the most possibility of picking up the survivor.

Over the course of five minutes, Sollux stared, studied, as rain continued to hammer down on the ground. He wasn’t attentive as usual, due to lack of slumber, and his eyes kept shaking with the effort to focus, but he tried. The cameras held no sound, so he couldn’t hear if the survivor ran past or not. Then, swiftly, suddenly, a figure ran by, being pelted by the rain. Sollux leaned into his computer, rewinding the footage.

The survivor was scrawny, white, and blonde. He was soaked, as far as Sollux could tell, his shirt heavy with water. To his back he held a container; perhaps a sprayer? Sollux couldn’t be sure, as the cameras he’d set up weren’t of the best quality. His shoulder held a bag and something, maybe a stick or some kind of sword, was stuck to his side and attached to his belt.  _ He must be exhausted, _ Sollux thought. ... _ Sucker. _ He almost snickered before realizing how much of an asshole he was. Then, he  _ did _ laugh, because he didn’t care how much of an asshole he was. 

Deciding he didn’t care enough about this guy, Sollux set his computer to rest and stretched, prepared to go back to sleep. Gathering stray bowls and cups, he walked them to the main kitchen, dropping them into the sink for his roommate to wash. Maybe he would get the hint and leave. 

Or maybe he would shout at Sollux to do the dishes some more. Either way, he would deal with it later.

On his way to the sleeping quarters, he passed the elevator. When Rose had assigned him the job of finding survivors and sending them to the manor, she’d told him one thing;  _ “Don’t go down to the third floor. Don’t try sneaking down there, either. I have made many precautions, including those you would never see on Alternia, to prevent anyone aside from me, Kanaya, or Feferi being down there. Oh–the same thing goes for room three.” _

Now, when Sollux had heard this, he’d known something was up. So he sniffed around a bit, never really attempting to go down but bribing Rose into telling him what was up. It never worked. So he searched for room three.

But room three didn’t seem to exist. There was a room two, the kitchen, and a room four, the laundry room, but no room three. He’d looked, and found absolutely nothing.

So he left it alone.

By the route to his room was the firing range. Rose sometimes came down here with survivors and weaponry, telling them how and where to shoot things for weeks until they got the hang of it. But really, it was always used by his roommate.

_ Bang! _ Obviously, he was practicing in here. It wasn’t like he  _ needed _ to. He was, as much as he hated to admit it, an excellent marksman with his rifle (dubbed Ahab’s Crosshairs). Sollux didn’t need to see his dumb cape to want to get out of there, so he left silently and made a beeline to his sleeping quarters. When he was there, and collapsed onto a bed, he thanked a lord, if there happened to be one. He was drained, emotionally and physically, and disoriented. 

Of course, not sleeping for 76 hours usually did that to you.

* * *

 

_ “Ugh, it’s  _ you _ again,” the troll whined, not attempting to rise from the green chair he sat atop. If he tried, it would turn to be futile; he was stuck here unless he got the Doc’s permission to stand. _

_ “It’s a pleasure to see you, too, Mr. Ampora,” Doc Scratch greeted.  _

_ Eridan sneered. “What kind of dumb thing are you gonna introduce me to today?”  _

_ Doc Scratch’s foot lazily hung in the air from where it was crossed over his knee. “You should know better than to call your session dumb; or these lessons. I suppose your session was a mistake, simply an experiment created by Him, but, nonetheless, it is everything your life shapes.” _

_ Eridan squinted his eyes by the slightest bit. “Who is He?”  _

_ Scratch would have smirked then and there, had his head not have been a cueball. “He is the creator of this universe, and many others alongside it. You are not the only Eridan Ampora, you know, and I am not the only Doc Scratch. We are simply a thought He had once made, then set a path for. Every decision may be yours, but He dictates how you act and what you do when faced with something of any degree.” _

_ “Why are you even telling me this? Why not Rose?” _

_ Doc Scratch straightened up. “Rose attempts to See what I don’t have. She’s annoying, if I may admit, and while you are as well—” _

_ “—Hng—” _

_ “—it’s much easier to tolerate you. I trust that, when the time comes, you will wake up and remember the lessons I teach you and pass them on in your own… Fishy way,” he finished. _

_ “What’s that supposed to mean?” Eridan flattened his fins against his head. _

_ “I suppose you will find out,” Doc Scratch replied. The green room then seemed to fizzle out into the darkness of Eridan’s sleeping quarters, and with it, slumber. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> were getting into the better parts now kinda

“God, dammit– _ run! _ ” Terezi shouted, immediately rising from her spot. Vriska had already been doing that, Tavros moving much slower on his crutches. “Vriska, you coward, fight them!” 

It was no secret that Vriska couldn’t control the minds of the undead, but she  _ could _ fight them off quite easily with her eight-sided die–or, as she insisted was the  _ actual _ name, her “Fluorite Octet!” They contained magical properties, and, depending on what order they landed on, they cast random attacks that could range from harmless to deadly. 

With her luck, they were almost always deadly. 

Vriska either heard her or decided for herself, because she spun around, a grin on her face, and tossed down the dice. They landed on 3-3-2-5-2-4-6-7, one of the 16,777,208 different possible attacks. The sound behind them was interesting; a dozen clicks, then, explosions. Upon a glance behind the rushing trio, it appeared eight mines had been placed in a row where the die had once landed. 

Terezi would have thought nothing of it had Tavros been a bit farther ahead.

As an undead stepped on a mine, the ringing of it picking up, Terezi turned around, scenting Tavros too far away. “Tavros!” she called, moments from warning him. But by then, it was too late to save him. 

The blast was harmless, merely knocking him down, but he couldn’t get up in time to stop the horde that greeted him. “No! Stop! H- _ help me! _ ” he screamed, as bodies piled on top of him. Before long, neither troll could see nor scent the troll, but hear him they did. 

Guilt and horror flooded through Terezi, but she knew she was powerless. There were too many, and she could determine that by their overpoweringly disgusting scent alone. Instead, she blocked out the noise, turned tail, and fled with Vriska, whose face was grim with dread. Shouldering through undergrowth and shrubbery, they ran along the slippery forest floor as rain began to trickle down from above the roof of leaves that shielded them. 

With Tavros as bait, they lost the horde eventually, finding themselves stranded in the middle of the woodland. The trees and underbrush had begun to thin out, allowing the rain to openly hammer their bodies. 

“God, come on, we need a break,” Terezi huffed, exhausted. They’d been running for a while now, taking ‘breaks’ that consisted of them jogging slowly before they sped up again. Even Vriska had been tripping on roots and large twigs.

Vriska turned around. She seemed bothered by something. “Fine.  _ You _ can have a break, but  _ I’m  _ going to find something to eat.” Terezi would have objected, stating they had snacks in their bag, before remembering what had happened. 

“Okay,” she murmured, finding a nearby half-dry log and plopping down on it. She was too exhausted to favor the rumbling in her stomach, deciding she’d get food after her legs weren’t ready to give out.

Thankfully, it seemed she didn’t have to, as Vriska returned later with a magpie clutched in each of her palms. She wordlessly tossed one to Terezi, plucking the feathers off of her own and sitting down next to the blind troll. Trolls could eat meat raw, but most preferred not to, so Terezi grimaced at the damp bird before her. Her stomach announced its impatience loudly, deciding for her that she  _ would _ eat this because it was all she’d get. Vriska chuckled, already half-done with hers, and though Terezi was blind, she knew Vriska was side-eyeing her. 

A silence settled upon them, the rain beating down on the ground even ceasing down to a trickle after half an hour. The absence of Tavros hung thickly in the air, but even then, Terezi didn’t give herself time to grieve. As soon as the thought of the troll introduced itself, she pushed ahead, through the trees, determined to make progress.

When the sun had set and even  _ Vriska _ was demanding a break, Terezi gave in, giving up on breaking through the now-thick treeline and instead searching for a place to rest. What she found, though, wasn’t as expected. As she muttered to herself and travelled in a vague direction forward, she stumbled, letting out a yelp as she crashed through a bush. On the other side, though, she scented something acrid—yet, it was vaguely familiar.

She crawled out of the bush, feeling the rough, gravelly ground, and let a grin pass over her face as relief shot through her. “Vriska!” she called, rising to a stand. “Vriska, come here!”

A groan, followed by the heavy stomps of a disoriented Vriska met Terezi’s ears. “Did you find a clearing yet? That’s, y’know,  _ dry? _ The last time I checked, you were...” Vriska trailed off, eyes darting from the open space ahead of her to the ground.

“Oh,  _ hell _ yeah!” she shouted. They had finally arrived at a roadway, and, with that, a small farm across the street. Vriska, with no hesitation, snatched Terezi’s hand and dragged her across the street, newfound energy coursing through her. They made their way across the asphalt, toward the isolated farm. Clear as day, a generator whirred loudly alongside the building. Vriska held her dice clasped in one hand, ready to defend herself if she so needed.

They passed an old black car, stumbled up the rickety steps, and stopped at the screen door of the house. It wasn’t the ideal shelter against the newfound cold that gripped at their bones, but it was much better than sleeping in a thicket in the timberland. With that, Terezi kicked the door open, allowing it to bang harshly on the thin walls.

It was clear the house was abandoned, as it was disoriented and dirty. The first room, the kitchen, had scents of old, rotten food wafting from the table, floor, and cupboards, but Terezi wasn’t going to complain. She could finally sleep on a bed, or maybe, if she was lucky, she’d find a recuperacoon in this dump.

Upon exploration, there was one bedroom with a single mattress, sheets tossed carelessly to the floor, in the home. Vriska had already decided for them that she would get the mattress and Terezi could get the couch, but Terezi protested.

“Come on. It’s not like we’re  _ staying _ here. This is the first real bed— _ mattress, _ whatever—we’ve seen in months. Not to mention the recuperacoons drying up.”

Vriska turned her head, sleepy, yet still defensive. “What do  _ you _ suggest we do, then?”

Terezi threw her hands forward. “Share it, obviously.”

Vriska rolled her eyes, adjusting her limbs from the previous starfish they’d been in. “Whatever. I get the thicker blanket.”

“But your blood is cooler,” Terezi muttered as she climbed onto the left side of the bed. 

Vriska either didn’t hear, didn’t care enough to respond, or fell asleep  _ that _ fast, because she was silent for the rest of the night. Terezi, as much as her body hated it, had trouble sleeping at first, even with exhaustion weighing down her eyelids. But the image of Tavros being mauled by a horde of undead was stuck in her head, the guilt of her simply leaving him had gnawed hard on her bloodpusher.

Finally, as her mind was put to rest, she sunk deeper in the creaky mattress, relishing the warmth her blanket brought and the feeling of slumber creeping over her at last.

_ Brrring. Brrring. Brrring... _

Vriska groaned, rolling over. However, this effectively allowed herself to tumble face-first to the ground, earning a yelp from the troll. Quickly righting herself, she brushed the invisible dirt from her worn jeans and glanced around, blinking her eyes to adjust faster to the brightness of day. What was she up for, again?

_ Brrring. Brrring. Brrring. _

Right, that was what she was after. Following the noise and tripping on various items in the floor along the way, she discovered it was a phone on the wall. Creasing her brows, she flicked a nearby light switch and the light came on. Curiously, this place still had power, probably due to the generator outside.

Vriska picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“ _ Ugh, finally. You got pen and paper? _ ” the voice on the other end called, a lisp interrupting their speech.

“Woah, woah, woah. How do you even  _ have _ this number?” Vriska interjected, eyes scanning the room for the items the other person had asked for.

“ _ How do  _ you?” With that, Vriska shut up. “ _ I’ve been tracking your palmhusk for a few days, but I couldn’t contact it until you got cell reception. It died a few hours ago, though, while I was calling it, so I decided to do the next best thing. Got that pen and paper yet? _ ” Static seemed to be blocking his speech every now and again, but it wasn’t much of an issue.

Vriska nodded, but realized her mistake. “Yeah. Why were you tracking me?” She tucked the phone between her shoulder and her ear, pen at the ready.

“ _ I’m giving you a set of coordinates. I’m only saying them once, so  _ listen.” Vriska adjusted the phone, ready, but slightly irritated that he’d avoided her question. “ _ 40.883476, -72.372148. We have supplies and all the food you need, as well as a reinforced base and housing for free. It’ll take you a while, but you can do it. I suggest charging any electronics you have in that house of yours, considering there’s power for once. _ ” Before Vriska could reply or arrange the thoughts flowing through her head, the boy hung up, leaving her with the string of numbers before her.

Rethinking everything the boy had told her, Vriska internally jumped when Terezi walked in, her hair wet and blossom scented. “Did you take a shower?” Vriska asked incredulously, capping the pen she’d had. 

Terezi simply grinned, sniffing the air. “Yep, hot, too. What’cha got there?” she asked, peeking over the table. 

“A set of coordinates, written down by yours truly. The phone was ringing,” Vriska added. 

“Who was it?”

She scoffed, opening the fridge. A rancid scent caused her to recoil back, albeit the fridge was still–well– _ refrigerated. _ Some of the meat had rotted, as well as various fruits. Condiment bottles, jugs of water, and canned fruit sat neat, though. “Dunno. This hacker. He said we should go there because they’ve got, what was it, food, water, a base, and free housing. I seriously doubt it. He probably just wants to lead us away from this house so  _ he _ can get the loot in it!” Vriska snatched the non-perishables, glancing at their expiration dates before setting them back down.

Terezi mulled it over. “Well, they gave you real coordinates. With Google Maps still updating every year, you can check and see if the location is abandoned.”

Vriska pushed the rotten food and leftover bowls off the table, allowing them to clatter noisily to the floor. “Find me a palmhusk charger. And make sure it fits,” she ordered.

“Aye aye, Mrs. Blueberry,” Terezi chuckled, making her way back to the bedroom.

“Don’t call me that. Also, see if you can find some bags—or purses—while you’re at it!” she called before setting to work. 

Grabbing any non-perishables she could find, she laid them out over the table. She also snatched any cleaning supplies she found in the sink and threw them in an old grocery bag. 

Eventually, Terezi came back holding up two chargers, one for a phone and another for a palmhusk. Vriska grasped a charger and hastily plugged in her palmhusk, then looked to Terezi. “Find a bag, yet?”

“Yeah, it’s here.” She picked it from the ground, setting it on the table and holding it open. With Terezi’s help, she packed up all the supplies she had gathered (that including the old toothpaste and shampoos she’d found).

“Okay,” Vriska murmured, throwing an empty cup of water to the ground, “you can finish with this. I’m going to take a shower while I’ve got the chance.” And with that, ignoring Terezi’s groan of protest, Vriska hopped in the shower, relishing the feeling of hot water sliding down her back. When she emerged from the bathroom, smelling thickly of soaps and steam following her out, she’d swear she’d never been in that good of a mood at any period during her life.

Terezi had allegedly been outside when she exited because she opened the door and called Vriska outside.

“What?” Vriska asked, peeking her head out of the door. Her eyes landed on Terezi, who was sitting in the front seat of the old black car outside.

“Come here!” Terezi urged, a grin on her face. Vriska took the three steps down the wooden stairs, trampling through the overgrown grass to lean on the window sill of the car’s door.

“You know, even if this car works, there’s  _ no _ way we’re getting the keys  _ or _ gas.”

Terezi chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what  _ I _ thought.” She lifted her clawed hands, holding a key rack that rattled and clicked with the number of keys on it. “And, gas? Well, check the trunk. I found some in the yard while you were in your—ridiculously  _ long, _ by the way—shower. The tank’s already full to the brim!”

Vriska swiftly jogged to the back of the car, popping the trunk and gazing inside. In the back, two full jugs of what she could assume were gas and a jug of water for the engine sat neatly inside. Closing the trunk, Vriska let herself smile the tiniest bit. Today, she’d had two victories–a hot shower and a working car. It was a miracle.

“Are the tires flat?” Vriska asked, then remembering there could be more problems than they had thought of.

“They are a little bit, yeah. When I first checked the trunk, there was a single tire, but I just replaced it. The old one’s out back.”

Vriska crawled into the passenger side, sparing a glance to Terezi with the tiniest hint of disbelief in her eyes. “And you did all this while I was in the  _ shower? _ Do you even know how to replace a car?”

Terezi shook her head no. “I used your palmhusk. By the way, it’s fully charged. I also grabbed a cane for myself and a few knives in case we need to defend ourselves, so we’re packed. It’s in the back seat.”

If Tavros were here, his eyes would be bulging out of his head. Vriska would admit two things about him, but only to herself: she was glad he was gone, for he was stupid and slow, but she was bored without him. Sure, Terezi was nice to hang out with, but sometimes it was nice to have more than one person to talk to every day.

When she thought back, she wasn’t sure why she hadn't helped him. Sure, Vriska hated him with all of her being, but not so much she wanted him dead. She had felt...  _ compelled. _ Almost as if she was controlled. 

...But that was silly. Only she could control others, after all.

With Vriska’s sudden silence, Terezi began rifling through the keys, jamming any of them in before deciding they didn’t work. Vriska knew which key was correct, just by looking at the base, but she wanted to see how long it would take for Terezi to do the same. So she sat, waiting, watching, until she got bored and snatched the keys. “Hey–!” Terezi shouted, but Vriska simply handed her the keys back with the correct one standing out from the others. If Terezi’s mouth could form a question mark, it would have.

She shoved the key in and twisted, and, with a sputter, it was clear the key was right. “So, do you even know  _ how _ to drive? I know you’re only seven sweeps old.”

Terezi turned the key again, grimacing at the awful noise the car made before, at last, it roared to life. “You’re seven, too, dumbass.”

“Shut the hell up!” Vriska complained, crossing her arms. The car was rumbling lightly now, ready to go. “Okay, so, do you know where to go?” Vriska asked, rifling through the bag they’d found for her palmhusk.

“Nah,” Terezi chuckled. Instead of waiting for Vriska to access Google Maps, she backed up onto the road, nearly ramming the back of the car into the fence in the process, and floored the gas, sending them both into the back of their seats.

“God, dammit–” Vriska muttered, eyebrows squinting at her screen. “Terezi,  _ you’re going the wrong way!” _

“Oh, shit,” she murmured, half-laughing. “Whoops.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember to read the tags some of them might come in handy as content warnings for this chapter   
>  sorry for not uploading for so long ive had a lot going on and very little time to work on this   
>  hope this makes up for it   
>  ps yesterday (may 3) was my birthday happy birthday me

“Come on, get the hell up, everyone.”

Karkat scratched the back of his neck, staring down at the empty can of beans he’d just devoured. “We’ve got shit to do.” With that, he waited until WV and WQ had thrown their empty food cans away. They sat up, eyes trained on to him. Well, shit. They need order.

Karkat glanced outside. Sleeping on the floor of a mall really didn’t help him regain energy, but he felt he could take on a few of the undead without fainting at the sight of blood. What he felt strange about were the remnants of his dream, crackling with something akin to green electricity. He shook it off, though. If he had sopor, he’d not have to worry.

Muttering to himself, he reached a hand down in his bag, pulling his sickle and his water bottle out. In the process, though, his palmhusk cluttered to the ground. “Goddammit, lousy, stupid piece of shit,” he cursed, grabbing it. However, before he had the chance to toss it back in his bag, he noticed a blinking light on it. He had a text...?

Opening the screen, it was apparent someone anonymous had gotten his number. He scanned the message with curiosity.

\-- twinArmageddons  [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist  [CG] at 2:32 --  
TA: 40.883476, -72.372148.   
TA: iif you want two surviive meet u2 here we have all the 2hiit you need   
TA: iif you dont youre 2tupiid a2 fuck   
TA: have fun  
\-- twinArmaggedons  [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist  [CG] at 2:33 --

The Mayor hummed in question. “It’s some random dick. He says he’s got some supplies and sent some coordinates, but... I don’t trust him.”

WQ sat up, draining the last of her water bottle and sitting it neatly on the ground. “I think it would be worth it. As it appears, he  _ was _ able to track down your location. Why go through that trouble for a few measly stragglers?”

Karkat scratched his head, already typing the location in Google Maps. “But that’s exactly my point! Why waste his time on us? There’s  _ got _ to be a catch, nobody would just  _ willingly _ give out their fucking location and supplies out of the goodness of their damn heart.”

“Perhaps he wants workers for something?” The Mayor proposed. Karkat was busy scanning over the mansion on the page. It seemed... pretty legit. It wasn’t in the same state they currently resided in–New Jersey–but it was certainly close. It would be a few days travel, but, to his surprise, it wouldn’t be all that hard.

“They’re pretty close. I guess we can go,” Karkat grumbled, pocketing his phone. It was on 67%, so he wasn’t too worried about it dying. “Are you both ready?” he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

They both nodded, tossing their trash in a corner of the room before following Karkat out the door. Navigating through the mall was easy, as it was quite spacious, and they reached the bottom floor in no time. 

Once there, they began to be much quieter. Who knew what lurked around each corner? Karkat did. And they were pretty fuckin’ gross. Any chance he had of avoiding a body of walking, rotting flesh he would most  _ certainly _ take–and he was sure his travel mates could say the same.

The back door leading outside was left open, slightly hanging from its hinge. Red blood, dried and crusty, decorated the metal frame generously. Karkat looked away, his stomach churning. One thing he didn’t want to deal with today was an empty stomach.

They rounded the large building, again careful with each footstep. They were by the back of the mall, approaching a nearby gas station. It  _ seemed _ untouched, that is, if you didn’t account for the boarded-up windows and barbed wire crossing every entrance, but that meant it was being held by survivors or still had good loot. Either way, Karkat was willing to take the risk.

He always had trouble crossing the street because it was an open area, but this time, a flipped FedEx truck hid the three of them from view. They skittered along the street, weapons firmly held by their sides, and drew nearer relative to the gas station. The trio managed to jog around and behind it, with the Mayor (as the smallest) scoping it out. Once he called that all was clear, they were ready to go.

“Alright, here we go,” Karkat murmured, out of breath. The run here had been long and hot, and he was ready to lay down for a while. Carefully, he pulled the old barbed wire out and shoved it aside with his two sickles acting as prongs. Then, he used his sickles once more as a lever, pushing the wooden boards out of place until they snapped in half and fell to the ground. With relief, Karkat shouldered the door open, stumbling inside and sitting on the chair nearest to him.

Surprisingly, he found, the room was cold. The Mayor tried the light switch, and, unexpectedly, the lights flickered on. The building had power.

That was strange. Back in the mall, nothing had worked. In fact, wires had been torn from the walls and hung about the roof. He supposes the store, boarded, was protected from whatever reaped destruction, though.

Relishing the feeling of cold against his thick, gray skin, Karkat allowed Peregrine Mendicant and Wayward Vagabond to explore the relatively small store. When he allowed himself to stand, about 15 minutes later, he wandered aimlessly around the store. Along the shelves sat bags of chips neatly lined up, some with holes decaying in the plastic and others with rotted mush in the bottom of the bags. Karkat turned heel and searched another aisle, wrinkling his nose in utmost disgust.

He met his friends in the back by the refrigerated goods. They were sorting through some of the drinks, popping open a can and debating over whether it was fresh or not. 

“Well, it certainly  _ tastes  _ fresh,” the Mayor murmured, staring down at his can of Tab soda.

“But yet, that does not mean it is,” WQ replied.

“How? This can of Tab is perfectly good,” the Mayor argued, turning it over in his hands. “In fact, I’d say it is perhaps the freshest can this store has to offer. We should pack them all.”

WQ sighed softly. “If you insist, Mayor.” The Mayor grinned, offering her his can. She reluctantly wrapped her hand around it and sipped it, eyes widening. “Well, it does taste very nice,” she admits, “though it is too sweet for my tastes.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t have to get used to it,” Karkat replied, jumping into the conversation. “So, we’ve got everything,” he murmured, marking his mental checklist down over the course of a minute. “Yeah. Actually, we should grab some napkins.”

As requested, the Mayor got up and grabbed three boxes, stuffing them into the impossible abyss that was their duffel bag. 

“Hell fucking yes. We’ve got this.” With that, Karkat decided it was time to head out, only stopping to make sure he was being followed by his group.

 

It was about midnight when they decided to stop for the day. The trio was exhausted, as predicted, and Karkat refused to stand up once he’d sat down on a log. 

They rested in a belt of trees as they were between towns, a safe distance from danger, they presumed. Karkat laid down, wood scratching against his back, and covered his eyes from the nonexistent firelight the Mayor was about to start up.

“No, hold it like this, Mayor,” WQ murmured. Karkat’s head lolled in their direction and he half-heartedly lifted his arm to see what was going on.

Windswept and Wayward were struggling over the piece of wood and flint they’d gathered over the 2 days they’d been travelling. “You have to hold it like this, Wayward Vagabond,” WQ murmured once more, becoming more agitated.

Wayward didn’t respond, instead attempting to turn it a different way. Karkat would have laughed if it weren’t so cold.

“You have to flip it. The other way. You have to flip it, Mayor.”

Karkat groaned, startling the two. “If you two can’t do it, I will. Seriously, it’s not that hard.” Karkat rolled off his log, brushing the dirt and grime from his pants and stalking over.

“Look, you’ve got enough wood chips to start the fire, put the stick back,” he grumbled. He grabbed a rock from the ground, placing the tinder on top of the flint and beginning to strike it at an angle.

Before long, a spark landed, and he carefully blew on it until it burst into flames. Quickly, he grabbed the tinder and set it under the firewood they’d collected, allowing it to catch fire.

“Not that hard. See?” he muttered, shoving the flint and stick back into their bag.

With that, he sat down on the log, waiting for something to happen.

“You’re very good at that,” the Mayor complimented.

“Yeah, thanks.” Did carapacians learn something different than trolls in his old school? Surely not, they shared the same class back at the base they’d left behind. 

After about a minute or two, a rustle in the forest caught his attention. Glancing up, he made sure neither WQ or WV had made the noise. After confirming neither of them was the culprit, he peered into the endless maze of trees.

“It’s probably just a squirrel or some shit,” Karkat declared, letting himself relax. However, after he said that, he heard the rustling again.

WQ was already standing, her choice blade in hand. WV was quivering, his ruler and rock by his side. Karkat held his sickles. Perhaps it  _ was _ something. 

“Just in case.” WQ tossed WV the bag of supplies they all shared. “You’ll need to make a break for it if anything goes wrong.” WV nodded in anticipation,

Karkat sidled up to WQ, feeling much more confident beside a trained warrior. This was his first mistake. Carapacians were always the best fighters, and WQ had shown that during the days they’d trained together.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, they stood their ground, eyes darting this way and that. They were ready for what was to come.

What they didn’t anticipate was the burst of leaves behind them. “Ah!” WV yelped, stumbling around the fire. Several zombies tore across the open flame, burning their flesh in the process but keeping on anyway.

Karkat turned around. He quickly blocked the zombies from WV, trusting that WQ could handle whatever was going on with her. This was his second mistake. One by one, he diced the small pack of undead bodies until he sent their heads rolling. The final one he sent sprawling across the dirt before it landed into the fire, screaming for whatever scrap of life it had left. He finished it off with a gulp, turning around and making sure the Mayor was okay.

That was his last mistake.

Once he was sure the Mayor was okay, he turned around, ready to defend WQ. But it was too late. She was holding off roughly 6 or 7 bodies, attempting to draw her sword from where it resided in the rotting stomach of one. Mangled hands that looked like roadkill wrapped around her waist, dragging her in. 

“No!” Karkat screamed, closing the gap between them. Before he’d done that, WQ had been buried in bodies, only flashes of dusty white alerting him of her presence. He swung carelessly with his dual-wielded sickles, the barrier around his friend growing weaker by the second. By the time each soulless corpse lay on the ground, a sickly stench filling the air, Karkat had tears running down his face.

He kicked the masses out of the way, getting down on his knees and dragging WQ from the pile. “Fuck- fuck, fuck, please be o-okay,” he stammered, sniffling. 

Warm, thick blood ran from wounds on her sides and arms. Her head lolled to one side, red trickling from her mouth. There was so much blood. Karkat turned around, heaving on the ground. He didn’t notice WV when he came to pat his back. 

“No, no, no no no,” Karkat pleaded, turning his attention back to WQ. “You can’t die. You can’t. I need you,” he begged. “Don’t die. Please don’t die. Please,” he repeated, his voice hoarse from screaming.

WQ turned her head feebly, staring into Karkat’s eyes.

“You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. You’re fine, you’re fine,” Karkat chanted.

“I’m going to die, Karkat,” she coughed. Blood splattered onto his face. He did not care.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Her eyes glazed over with pain. “Don’t let me bleed out, Karkat. I don’t want to bleed out,” she rasped, throat dry. The Mayor was sobbing behind them.

“I can’t do it,” Karkat whispered. “I can’t kill you. I can’t. I can’t do that.”

Windswept Questant closed her eyes, heaving a breath. Blood was soaking Karkat’s clothing but it was also pooling in her mouth. He dipped her, letting the blood trickle to the ground. He wanted to faint; he felt lightheaded, seeing the grass stained red. He could easily watch a zombie die, as its blood was a sickly black or green, but this was a real, living, breathing, conscious person. Not only that, this was one of his best friends. “Yes, you can,” she mumbled, breaking his line of thought. “You can.”

Karkat hiccupped, his throat locking up. He cared about her. She was his best friend.

“Okay. Okay. Okay, I can do it,” he decided, shutting his eyes and allowing his tears to run down his chin. “I can. I can,” he repeated, rising to his feet. 

He opened his eyes to stare at her limp, bleeding body. She was a mess of red, brown, and white, her figure no longer beautiful as she lay pitifully on the ground. She said nothing more, staring at the troll with a longing sorrow in her gaze. 

Karkat readied his sickles. “Fuck. Fuck, okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” she mouthed, not a whisper of sound coming from her mouth.

“Fuck.” Karkat breathed. “Fuck.” He stopped, regaining his breath.

He closed his eyes, and swung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont be afraid to go on a long rant about why wq didnt deserve to die or why she did or why you dont care but karkat was upset and you love karkat because i love comments


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the sad word count and super rushed scenes maybe ill make up for it later or maybe you like it anyway who knows who cares  
> this chapter has been done for about a week but i wasnt able to post it due to a fuck up in my dads internet  
> also ive been a bit busy lately and when i havent i havent had much motivation to update  
> thanks to my friend [sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrylicDemons) for flavoring shit up

Dirk looked left and right, his trained eyes scouring the earth as he turned the wheel to the black Honda he was driving. He was driving slow enough that it was quiet but fast enough they could get by.

He, Jake, Jane, Jade, and John were piled in the car that they’d found parked sideways in a gas station. They’d filled it up with what little gas the station had left to offer and left, their belongings in the trunk of the car.

They’d been driving for roughly an hour, switching on and off neutral on every hill, choosing their roads carefully, when the car sputtered and, as predicted, died.

“Goddammit!” Dirk grumbled, almost hitting the horn in the process. He hung his head, sighing.

“It’s okay, Dirk,” John reassured, “I’m sure we’ll do just fine without the car! Maybe we can even find more gas for it if we’re lucky.”

Dirk shook his head. “It’s not the gas,” he replied, tapping the fuel meter. “The battery must have died.”

“Is there a way we can jumpstart it?” Jane suggested.

Dirk dragged his hands off the wheel. “Unless you’ve got charged jumper cables, we can’t. Besides, this car is beaten up enough already. It’s probably got more wrong with it than just a dead battery.” He crawled out of the Honda, slamming the door shut after yanking his bags from the seat. “Alright, everyone. We need to find a new car or something. Out.” At his command, the crew left the car.

Jade and he guarded the vehicle while John, Jake, and Jane unloaded their belongings from the trunk, hauling them out with little difficulty. Thankfully, the undead, hidden away behind bushes or stores, knew it was too risky. They may be undead, but they weren’t reckless, and so they had decided not to interfere with the group.

“Whew!” Jake sighed after having grabbed everything that belonged to him and the Crocker-berts. “That was some work. Where to now, Dirk?” he asked, dragging his hand along his face.

Dirk looked around a bit, eventually scaling the top of the car to get a better vantage point. To their left, a few blocks down was a church. Before that, a few different shops, all beaten, abandoned, and broken, littered the road. “We shouldn’t check out those shops,” he signaled, “because they’ve already been ransacked. There’s a gas station over there, though, and a few cars.” The crew craned their heads, squinting at the gas station that resided down the street. It was half an hour’s walk away, but it was something. Plus, they were still travelling North.

The travel there was tedious and silent. Jane and John made attempts to get to know Dirk, but his short, clipped replies shook off their curiosity rather quickly. Before they arrived at the gas station, they passed a grassy hill overlooking a playground.

The playground itself was rusted, peeled, dull, and dusty. Bags of trash surrounded it, and, in the center, a large white bag sat untouched. “Hey, Dirk, do you see that?” John asked, pointing at the aforementioned loot. It seemed the polar opposite of trash, really.

“Yeah.” Dirk wouldn’t be reluctant to admit that he was curious about the bag, but everything about the park and the situation screamed ‘trap!’

In the end, his curiosity won him over.

“Okay. John, Jake, you can go investigate. Everyone else, we can keep an eye out for anything.”

“Actually,” Jane butted in, “Can I go?”

“I don’t mind swapping places with her,” John shrugged.

Dirk nodded. “Alright. Grab it and come back. No distractions.” With a hum of confirmation, Jake and Jane rushed down the hill, heading toward the large playground.

In the meantime, Jade had pulled out her rifle. John and Dirk, both equipped with melee weapons, had resorted to simply watching the edges of the woods that surrounded the playground. The shadows seemed to move and wobble, almost as if the things hiding in them wanted to come out but couldn’t.

As Jake and Jane grabbed the bag, Dirk internally sighed with relief. They began to trek back up the hill, clothes dirtied from where they’d jumped over bars or slid under walkways, when a sudden shrill noise rang out. A loud, barking sound, accompanied by a dark blobby shape was running towards them. It was a dog. An infected one, at that.

Jade quickly located the hound, aiming her rifle at it. “Hurry up!” John shouted toward the duo now jogging up the hill, dragging their loot with them.

Jade fired. The dog yelped, a bullet implanted in its shoulder, but it didn’t give up. It was closing in on Jake and Jane.

Dirk sprang into action, making a beeline for the dog and attempting to intercept it. he was too slow, though, and it reached Jake.

Jake kicked it, cocking his suppressed pistol. It came in for another leap, oblivious to the world around it, before a bullet implanted itself in its head. Dirk rushed over and drove his unbreakable katana through its head, finally killing the beast. “Fuck. Okay, we need to go _now._ That noise isn’t going to go unheard,” Dirk stated, helping a paralyzed Jane carry the loot they’d found. They weren’t even sure what was in it, but apparently, it had been worth the trouble.

Jake was lagging behind. “Hey, man, pick up the pace. We don’t have all day.” Though his tone was sharp, Dirk was worried about him.

“Ehh, Dirk, I think I got scratched,” he murmured, tone deathly quiet.

“What?!” John exclaimed, covering his mouth in embarrassment shortly after. “I mean, what?”

Jake inched the sleeve of his left arm up. “Ah, shit,” he muttered. “It’s not that bad. I must not have noticed in the heat of the battle.”

Jane scurried over. “Oh, well, it could have been worse,” she murmured. “This’ll be okay. I have enough equipment to stitch you up.” She guided him over to their belongings. While they did that, John and Jade helped Dirk haul the bag over the crest of the hill and back onto the road.

“Doesn’t that mean...” John began, but couldn’t finish his sentence. Dirk knew what he was thinking: _Doesn’t that mean he’s infected now?_

“No. Where have you been these last three years?” he added to himself. “He’ll be fine. You’re only infected _after_ you die. Getting bitten or scratched means nothing if you live through it.”

John sagged with relief. “Fuck, okay. I was worried.” No longer as anxious as before, John helped Jane patch Jake up. Dirk’s anticipation for the inevitable rose as the sky grew darker. They should have moved earlier and patched Jake up later, but surely Jane knew what was best for him. He had been told she was excellent at helping those in need, whether it be physical or not.

After Jake’s wound had been cleaned, stitched, and bandaged, they set out to move again, the clouds overhead turning strawberry as the sun began to set. They moved quickly, now, as they needed to get to the gas station as fast as possible.

Despite their fast pace, they only made it when light was cast by the moon. They packed up their things, shoving it in the back of the only working truck they’d found, and huddled in the vehicle until dawn.

While everyone slept, Dirk kept watch for half of the night, only waking Jade when it was her shift. The truck, he’d noted, bored at one moment, was doing fine–that was if you were excluding the peeling paint job slathered on it. With the amount of gas they’d squeezed from every tank, they’d be able to make it all the way to New York, if they wanted, in two days, tops—maybe even one day if they were lucky. Once he'd mustered enough curiosity, he'd walked around back and checked the bag they'd stolen. Clothes. Clean ones, at that. If you were to ask Dirk if the fight for them was worth it, he'd say yes: they hadn't been able to change in a long while, with the exception of John and Jane.

With that thought, Dirk was able to make sure his crew slept as soundly as possible that night. Tomorrow was going to be a very, very long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me how i did in the comments   
>  i never get constructive critisism so if you happen to have any dont be afraid pointing out grammatical errors or plot holes it makes me feel better knowing i didnt leave something bad in later on   
>  if you dont have any of that you can tell me if you liked it or just not i guess its optional   
>  tl;dr: please comment


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> srry this took so friggin long   
>  fitting 2 shits together in this 1 to just kinda. do it

“Hey, Terezi?” Vriska began roughly three hours into the car trip. 

“Yes?”

Vriska removed her feet from the dash and stared intently at Terezi, who was sniffing wildly. “How the  _ fuck _ are you driving?”

Terezi paused for a moment before exploding with laughter. “It’s easy! It might be  _ safer _ for you to drive, especially with the number of potholes I’ve hit in the last ten minutes alone, but I can smell where the road—or whatever is left with it—ends and where the grass starts.”

“No, I got that. I just don’t know how you can read the letters on the gear shift while you’re sniffing out the road.”

Terezi grinned. “Trial and error!”

Vriska didn’t bother to ask any more questions after that, instead resorting to leaning her chair as far back as she could for the third time that trip. In between naps, she stared at Terezi, wondering how she managed to fall pale for the troll. But she never focused on it. It wasn’t important; they had the whole world in front of them.

Eventually, Vriska groaned loudly. She was bored out of her mind and stuck in a hot, air-conditioner-free car, travelling across the ground for what seemed like forever. She passed in and out of consciousness until it became dark, where Terezi stopped for the night. 

“Why are we stopping?” Vriska yawned, blinking sleep from her eyes. 

“I’m tired. Go back to sleep,” Terezi said.

“Bullshit. We stopped in the middle of nowhere. You’d at least have found somewhere to stay instead of in this car,” Vriska countered, eyes lidded in uninterest.

Terezi sighed in defeat. “You caught me. We ran out of gas.”

Vriska sat up. “What? I thought we had enough for at  _ least _ eight hours!”

The blind of the duo would have rolled her eyes if she could see. “I said  _ six,  _ you’re just obsessed with that number. We actually drove for seven hours, so I’m not sure why you’re complaining. That’s half of the distance we need to travel, actually,” she added to herself.

“Ugh. Whatever.” Vriska slumped back in her seat, covering her eyes with her arm. “Lousy fucking car,” she murmured.

Terezi followed her move, adjusting her seat and making herself comfy before a wave of exhaustion hit her. Exhaling in relief, she let herself fall into the depths of slumber.

* * *

 

“Wake up, asshole,” Vriska said, shaking Terezi awake. When she blinked open her eyes, Vriska ceased her assault and climbed back into her own seat. 

“Damn, is it really already morning?” Terezi muttered, squinting despite her lack of sight.

The two girls climbed out of the beaten car and each stretched in turn. Terezi grabbed her cane from the back seat and snapped it out in front of her, glancing over at Vriska. “Do you see any buildings?” she asked, sniffing the air around them intently.

Vriska hummed. “Yeah, there’s something on the horizon. It’s really far, though.” Sure enough, Terezi scented a small, dark blob against the cotton candy sky.

“Should we take the car with us?” Terezi turned toward the vehicle, resting her arm against the roof.

“What, push it? All the way over there? Hell no,” Vriska replied, slinging a pack she had taken the day prior over her shoulders. In her pocket, she deposited her fluorite octet before she began to trek forward. “There’s probably not even any gas.”

“Where there’s a town, there’s a gas station,” Terezi murmured to herself. She followed Vriska slowly, in no rush. She knew the trip would take over an hour on foot, so she did nothing to speed up the process in the hope she wouldn’t grow tired as fast.

With nothing to do but walk, Terezi scented the irregularities in the ground, looking back when she was sure the distance between the car and them had grown. Eventually, it became nothing more than a speck on the ground, and as they rose up a hill and parted from the dirt road, it disappeared. 

The building they were headed toward grew clearer by the minute. Terezi scented its round roof at first, then the other buildings beside it. As they came closer and closer, it was prominent a metal fence wrapped the site together, barbs lining the top. Cars crowded the inside and the out, all darkly colored.

When they finally arrived at the fence, both downing a water bottle and wiping sweat from their brows, they recognized the structures before them.

“Holy shit, did we just find a military base?” Vriska whispered.

“Hell yeah!” Terezi shouted, waltzing through a tear in the gate.

“Shut the fuck up!” Vriska panicked. “We don’t know if someone is here. Or some _ thing. _ ”

Terezi nodded, shame creeping up her neck. She was right. Anything could be camping out here, waiting for an unsuspecting meal to wander in.

They first headed toward the largest building, pushing open the rusted metal doors and sneaking through the dark, musty hallways. As they traversed, they listened with keen ears until it was prominent nothing more was in the building.

When they arrived toward two more metal doors, they squat down, knowing the next room would be large. They waited for a bit, listening attentively for noises. Quiet murmuring resounded from beyond the doors, and Vriska shared a glance with Terezi. “Three... Two... One...” she whispered, pushing the doors open together with Terezi and standing in a defensive position.

_ Bang!  _ came the sound of a gun shooting, a bullet ricocheting off the wall and just barely missing Vriska. She shouted, blindly shielding her face with her prosthetic while Terezi had her cane snapped in two and was sniffing the area.

“Oh, shit!” Terezi said after a moment of utter silence. “We just found survivors!”

“You think I’d realize that,” Vriska retorted, peeking out from beyond her arms.

Terezi confidently walked toward the two figures she scented, pausing for a minute. They were carapacians. “You’re not going to shoot me again, are you?”

“No,” came the voice of one dersite, wrapped in yellow police tape. “I apologize. I thought you were of the undead kind.”

Another carapacian, a prospitian, waddled up, shaking Terezi’s then Vriska’s hand. “Hello!” she said. “We are sorry! We didn’t realize you weren’t out to hurt us,” she murmured. There was a certain spark in her eye that Terezi could not place.

“You almost blew a hole in my arm!” Vriska shouted. Terezi elbowed her hard, and she grunted. “...but, whatever,” she sighed.

“So, where are we?” Terezi began.

The dersite sat up, placing the M1911 he’d had prior in a loop on his belt and clearing his throat. Before he spoke, Terezi noticed how the walls were bound with guns of varying shape and size. “Welcome to my arsenal!”

* * *

 

“Come on, Equi-hiss!” Nepeta squealed, hopping her way through the ferns of the forest. 

“Nepeta, the way you are travelling is making me nervous. I demand you stop; you are putting both of us in danger,” he warns. 

“N’aww!” She stands up on two legs, smiling. “I’m sneaky! Just like a cat. You’re the one being loud; maybe you should try being a cat, Equius,” she purrs, scampering ahead. “Come on! I can smell them more clearly now!”

Equius gave up the fight, if only because he didn’t want to be loud, and followed Nepeta through the forest in a brisk fashion. They’d been sent by Rose to scour out a survivor, and for the past few days, they’d been scavenging the forest in the general direction they’d been sent in. Equius had wanted to give up, but Nepeta persisted. “It’s my determination that will save this fur-vivor!” she had said, a gleam in her eye Equius recognized well. She wasn’t going to give up, and now, he was glad she didn’t. He’d never admit it, though.

Nepeta hopped ahead once more, slicing stray ferns out of her way in the process. She was much faster on four legs than one, he noticed, even if she was not a real cat. “It’s the thought that counts!” she’d assured the one time he asked. He would never understand her positive demeanor. Without her, he would crumble.

Shaking the thoughts away, he focused on trampling in the path of scattered leaves she left. They were close now, and Equius could see the shelter the survivor must be hiding in. Few bodies lay outside, but no sound came from within. “Nepeta, are you certain this is the survivor’s location?” he questioned.

“Of course! I’m paw-sitive,” she nodded. “Look, we’re here!” she murmured, voice low. After pausing for a moment, she moved on. “C’mon!”

She trampled up the stairs on two legs, knocking politely on the door. “Hewwo?” she mewed in a sing-song voice. “Is anyone there?” 

The soft patter of footsteps trailed up to the door until it was whipped open. Nepeta smiled, waving her hand. She was thankful that this survivor was not as aggressive as others, as she put away her hand—and presumably her psionics—at the sight of Nepeta and Equius. She was a rust blood with a torn-up skirt and curly, ram-like horns.

“Oh! Sweet!” she said, smiling. “I knew you would arrive, but I thought it would be later.”

Nepeta quirked a brow but smiled back nonetheless. “Hiya! What’s your name? I’m Nepeta, and this is my moirail, Equius,” she greeted.

The troll dipped her head, looking back and forth between Equius and Nepeta. “I’m Aradia. It’s a pleasure to finally be free of this building, and with company nonetheless. You wouldn’t believe how messy the interior is.” 

Equius had a strange feeling toward Aradia, but he didn’t question it. “We need to get moving. If you’ve been here for long, the undead will surely arrive in numbers.” Aradia nodded her head in agreement.

“Where are we going?” Aradia asked as the three of them walked down the stairs.

“Oh! We’re headed toward my fur-ends mansion! She takes in refugees often, and she sent us to find you.” Aradia smiled.

“I guess you could say she’s...  _ paw-some! _ ” she said, picking up on Nepeta’s cat-themed puns. Nepeta lit up.

“That was a good one!” she exclaimed.

“Thank you. I like to think of myself as a  _ purr-fessional _ when it comes to puns!” Aradia gave Nepeta finger guns, winking as she punned.

“Oh, really meow?” Nepeta challenged. “I’ve been studying cat puns fur years. I think  _ I’m _ the real purr-ficient one here!”

Equius butted in. “While that last one was a  _ stretch _ , I must agree. Nepeta has a rather  _ strong _ dedication to integrating cat puns into her everyday speech. She is a real master because....  _ be-claws _ of that.” He was tentative about adding a cat pun of his own, but in the end, it lightened the mood.

“ _ Purr-haps _ we should have a pun-off!” Aradia suggested.

“Whatev-fur you say! You’ll remember this mew-ment as the end of your pun career!” Nepeta said, excited.

“I’m  _ paw-sitive _ it’s the other way around.”

And then, as Equius would remark, they proceeded to have one of the most vexatious pun-offs in the history of pun-offs. It was a tie, they had decided when every cat pun has been reused at least three times. Eventually, after bonding over the puns and Nepeta telling of her roleplaying stories, they arrived at the manor. 

They began to walk through the barriers that stopped the undead from coming through when Nepeta halted. “I know you’re not used to people, so this may be o-fur-whelming! There are a lot of people staying here, and I think a new purr-son came the other day. You can opt out if you want!” she said.

Aradia nodded. “Thank you. I think I’ll be fine, though, but the thought is reassuring.” She flashed the troll-cat a smile before walking up the steps, the moirails following close behind.

Equius rapped his knuckles on the door, shifting uncomfortably in his clothes. During the trip, he had begun sweating quite a bit. Without a towel to wipe it off, he stunk. Aradia had even made a pun about it at some point.

The door swung open and Kanaya invited them inside. “Hello! Welcome to the Lalonde Mansion, she greeted. “Equius, Rose has prepared fresh towels and a glass of milk in your block. Nepeta, your reward for helping find...”

“Aradia.”

“...is awaiting you in the kitchen.” Kanaya waved them off with the elegance she always carried, then faced Aradia.

“I’m Kanaya Maryam. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she greets, a warm, motherly smile on her face.

“It’s nice to meet you, too!” Aradia says. “I’m Aradia Megido. Thank you for inviting me here!”

“It is no issue,” Kanaya said. “We only ask that you help us tend to the place and stay out of the basement. Would you like to meet the others?”

Aradia nodded. “Of course! I haven’t really talked to anyone in a long time, so I’d love to socialize.” She smiled, her eyes bright.

Kanaya looked her up and down. “And afterward, you can pick out some new clothes. I know I’d hate it if I hadn’t changed in months,” she murmurs. 

“Thank you, again. I never thought I’d meet someone post-apocalypse with so much hospitality.”

Kanaya blinked. “Well, I’m glad I could help out. We are very glad to take others in, you know,” she said. “Come in, now. I’ll let you meet the others.”

“Right.” Aradia followed her into the foyer, the sound of the outside world closing with the door.

She was finally at peace.


	11. Chapter 11

For the past few days of his living here, Dave had been skeptical. 

Skeptical of what, he couldn’t tell you. Truly, he wanted to know what Rose and Kanaya were doing down in the basement every other day, but Rose was his sister, and he wouldn’t dare admit he was curious of her intentions. They would disappear for hours, and when questioned, the conversation would flip and Rose would be asking about his life for the past few years. Kanaya simply shook her head and stated that it was a personal matter when Dave inquired about it.

So he began to take action into his own hands.

Today was hectic. A new member, Aradia, had arrived at the site with two of Rose’s friends. He had known none of the three the day before, so he exchanged pleasantries quickly, not wanting to disrupt his plan. 

With the house buzzing with activity, it wasn’t hard to slip unnoticed. With years of training, he was quiet, especially when everyone was worrying over the steadily depleting sopor supply. He couldn’t care less, but apparently one of the members—Gamzee, was it?—was pacified by it. Rose had kept the priority of sopor high, and had even told him that on his first day it was vital he be sedated at all times.

She had either not been informed of the low amount they had stocked or didn’t care, as she had not appeared much at all today other than helping prepare breakfast for everyone.

Disregarding the thought, he watched Rose and Kanaya take the elevator down to the bottom floor. When he was sure their trip was over, he called it back and slipped unnoticed into the shaft. If anyone questioned where he was later, he’d make up a half-assed excuse about bonding with Aradia since she was off to do whatever she wanted for her first day.

When the elevator doors closed and he was left to his own during the slow descent, he began to mull over everything. At this point, he’d usually feel a sense of accomplishment. He had successfully snuck into the elevator and was headed to the -3rd floor, the same place Rose and Kanaya were now at. However, instead of pride, he felt shame. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, leaning against the wall. Who was he to question his sister, whom he hadn’t seen in over six years–since  _ before  _ the beginning of the apocalypse?

She had given him hospitality, food, shelter, and potential friends, and he’d decided that wasn’t enough for him. Despite the growing sense of regret he felt creeping through him, it was too late.  _ All or nothing, right? _

_ Ding. _ The elevator doors opened with a creak. He cringed, peeking out the doors and into the brightly-lit hallway. It wasn’t hard to tell that Rose and Kanaya were down the left of the hall, as when he listened, he heard the faint crash of glass on floor.

He headed over, pushing the doors open hesitantly and just barely peeking out. There they were, with Rose’s painfully thin frame sitting on the floor, bent over the broken glass, and Kayana walking from a room with a broom and dustpan. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Rose. I’ll sweep it up.”

Rose exhaled, sitting up and looking at her arm. “Too late. I’ve cut myself, it seems,” she murmured.

Kanaya squatted down next to her girlfriend and examined the cut. After a moment of consideration, she placed her hand over the cut. Dave squinted, confused, as she lifts her hand and the angry red line that had been there before vanishes.

“Thank you. I’m not sure where I’d be without you,” Rose smiled, giving Kanaya a quick kiss on the lips. After they cleaned the mess of glass, she walked over to a desk on the left of the room and sat down, Kanaya taking place across from her.

“So, last night you dreamed of Doc Scratch again?” Kanaya asked, getting straight to business. Dave’s eyes widened behind his shades at the name ‘Doc Scratch.’ He had had dreams of him, too!

Rose nodded, taking out a pen and scribbling something down on the notepad she had grabbed. “Yes. Tonight’s was... very, very strange. He acted differently.”

“How so?” Kanaya papped Rose’s hands and took the notebook from her. Rose squinted.

“He told me how I was cured. He was blunt but in such a subtle fashion. I... I don’t know how to say it, really.” Kanaya perked up rather quickly, dropping the pen. Dave also perked up.  _ What does she mean, cured? Cured of what? A disease? _

Dave thought for a moment, wondering what it could be. He knew she was much paler and skinnier than anyone should be despite being perfectly healthy, but there was nothing else about her that seemed sickly

“He told you what, now?” she asked, disbelief prominent in her expression. Her eyes were open wider and her usually glowing skin was brighter than he’d seen it before.

Rose nods, sitting back. “It turns out, he is not a manifestation. Of course, we both know this already. However, last night confirmed it.” She tapped the desk. “I just don’t know... why...”

“Rose. How did you get cured?” Kanaya asks, unusually stern.

Rose looked up from her hands. Dave did the opposite.  _ She’d been infected before. She used to be undead, _ he realized. He wanted to curl into himself. It made sense, considering they’d find a cure for anything else. “He cured me, Kanaya. He told me he was the one who did it.”

If Kanaya could look any more surprised, she would have. “All this time..” she murmured. Dave felt small hiding behind the door. Kanaya sat up and began to pace. “He was the one behind it. But why?”

Rose stood up, too, placing a hand on Kanaya’s shoulder. “Calm down, love.”

Kanaya nodded slowly, turning to her girlfriend and relaxing.

“In this dream, I asked him why I was the one he chose to dream to so often. That was the beginning. He told me it was because I was the one who would lead the world to be pure again. And then I asked him, ‘What makes up this cure?’ And he told me, ‘Are you asking what the cure is, or how you are alive now?’ ...I did not respond. He told me, ‘The cure you want will be found in the book. As for how you are alive, you can thank me.’ And then the dream ended.”

Kanaya said, “The book. Is he referring to...”

“...Yes. That’s why I was pouring over the pages this morning. If being undead is considered an unbearable sickness to the point that there is no cure, then it is up to a God to heal it.” 

“The life aspect!” Kanaya exclaimed.

Rose’s phone began to buzz. “It’s Sollux. Hello?”

Dave sat back. This was too much. “Yes? Oh, really now?” Rose said, and Dave began to tune them out. 

So, Rose had been a zombie, he thought. She had been a zombie, but then Doc Scratch had revived her. Doc Scratch. The same one he dreamed about on a weekly basis. 

But Rose used to be a  _ real, actual zombie _ . She had died, once, and now she was alive again.

That reminded Dave of the cut on her arm. How had Kanaya healed it? A trick of the light, maybe? She did glow, so it wasn’t unlikely he had seen something wrong. He shook his head in frustration.

He continued to ignore Rose and Kanaya’s murmurs, even as Rose said, “Ah, well, that’s just Dave being Dave, I suppose.” He then worked around the situation again. They had spoken of a book. But what book? And what was a life aspect? What did they mean by ‘God’?

He almost snapped his fingers. Maybe Doc Scratch was a God that had a life aspect. It would make sense, considering he had ‘revived’ her. Something told him he was wrong, though. He ignored it and sat up, letting the door shut quietly behind him. 

He tuned in the rest of the world then and, not a moment too late, he heard the tap of shoes against the floor. In a panic, he scrambled into the nearest room, which happened to be a closet of cleaning supplies. 

Two shadows passed by the light from under the crack in the door. His heart was pounding and his head was spinning. Too much was going on. He was thankful when he heard the sound of the elevator’s doors closing shut, and five minutes afterward, he left the safety of the closet.

The lights had been turned off in the hallway, so he felt his way along the wall until he reached the lab that Rose and Kanaya had been in. Opening the doors, he flailed his arm against the wall until he found the light switch, turning it on and blinking against the harsh light.

The room was much smaller than he thought. There was a single desk to the left, where Rose and Kanaya had sat. Their notepad was still there, so Dave walked over to it. It was open, but the page was blank. They must have ripped the page out.

At first, he was disappointed. But then he realized he could do the thing on T.V. where they use the indentation of the last person’s writing to find out what they wrote down. Taking the pencil they’d used, he lightly scribbled down on the paper until he could see...

...Nothing. He should have known it only worked in movies, where they purposefully bear down. He blew air through his nose, looking around and dropping the pen on the table. The room was decorated nicely with blues and browns and whites, but it, otherwise, was plain, with a single table in the middle.

He left the space and shut the light off, walking to the elevator. He called it down and leaned against the wall until it arrived.

When it did, he sat inside and pondered over everything for the third time.

Rose used to be a zombie. Doc Scratch, the person he’d dreamed about weekly, cured and revived her. He told her there was a cure that she could find in the book. In this book, there’s something called a life aspect that is given to Gods, which Doc Scratch must be. Also, Kanaya might have healed Rose or something.

As soon as the doors opened, Dave flashstepped to his room, running his hands through his hair. On his way there, nobody stopped him. He was thankful.

Today, he had only succeeded in making himself more confused than before. As he laid down on his bed, preparing to sleep, he heard Feferi’s voice from beyond his closed door. “Dave! Dinner!” He moaned in frustration, sitting up. 

He just wanted to  _ sleep _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh plot

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are rad. if you enjoy this work itd be appreciated to have some   
>  [ tumblr ](https://o0jaywolf0o.tumblr.com)


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